Hetalia: Expecto Patronum
by Luna Safire
Summary: Liechtenstein and Iceland gain magical powers, but a spell meant to help goes horribly wrong. Now thirty nations have magic, and they're all going to Hogwarts! Friendships are made and broken, secrets get out, and house rivalries are are at their fiercest. Is magic really all it's cracked up to be? Many pairings eventually.
1. Do You Believe in Magic?

**Hello to all of you out in FanFiction land! I'm Luna, if you haven't read my stuff before, and if you have, I'm sorry about the lack of updates lately. I haven't exactly been active on this site recently thanks to writing this story, but I'm proud of how it's turning out! I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter or their associated stuffs. If I did, the nations would actually go to Hogwarts in canon instead of FanFiction! But seriously. I quite honestly am a terrible procrastinator and updates may be pretty random timing-wise. Reviews help~**

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**_Rewrite posted 4/5/13_**

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Chapter 1

Taking a deep breath to compose himself after the ordeal he had just gone through, Iceland locks his kitchen door behind him, pulls out his phone, and calmly dials his brother.

He never lets the… _thing…_ out of his sight.

It stands there, glaring at him with soulless eyes, as he waits for Norway to answer. It does not move. And not that he'd ever admit it, it creeps Iceland out.

Finally, Norway picks up his phone. "Hello, _lillebror."_

_"Noregur._ What the hell did you send to my place? It's scaring the s*** out of… my citizens."

"M-hm. Does it look like a black horse with wings?"

"Sort of."

"Britain was missing a thestral. He did say it flew north. I'll be right over to pick it up. Give it some raw meat and it'll leave you alone until I get there."

"Seriously? That's all? I had to chase it into my house because it was in the middle of Reykjavik traffic and all I had to do was offer it meat? What kind of horse eats meat anyway?"

"A thestral, _lillebror._ A thestral eats meat." He hangs up.

Sighing, Iceland puts his phone back in his pocket and turns back to the thestral, eying it warily. He edges to the refrigerator and quickly finds a tray of raw fish, which he slides on the floor to itas soon as he gets the plastic off. The thestral eats quietly and then sniffs around the tray, looking for more. When it doesn't find anything, it looks up at Iceland expectantly.

"No, you can't have any more," said country insists, and the thestral looks down guiltily. Iceland reaches out and scratches behind its ear, shivering at the odd texture of the hair. _It's not that bad, I guess…_

Norway lets himself into the house to find Iceland petting the thestral fondly and smiles. _"Lillebror._ Can you use magic now?"

"Huh?" Iceland startles. "There's something known as knocking, Norway. It indicates when someone wants to come in so they don't scare their hosts."

Norway shrugs. "Denmark doesn't seem to mind. Again, can you use magic now?"

"Since when am I Denmark, and how the hell would I be able to use magic?"

"For humans, thestrals can only be seen by people who have seen and accepted death. For nations, it's just those of us who can use magic, I think. It's just Romania and England and Scotland and I who could see them, anyway. And now you. Therefore, you can use magic. Do you remember visiting Durmstrang when you were younger?"

"…No."

"M-hm. Well, it's my magic school, and you're going to attend it."

"We're both adults here. You can't tell me what to do. And Durmstrang's full of stuck-up fools who don't know what they're doing."

"So you do remember it."

"I'm still not going."

"It's either Durmstrang or… tell you what, you can go to Hogwarts in Scotland if you call me your big brother."

"AGAIN with this?! Just take the thestral and go."

"No. You have to go to some school. Untrained magic users are dangerous. Durmstrang or _storebror,_ come on."

"No."

"Durmstrang or _storebror… storebror… storebror…"_

"You're starting to sound like Belarus."

"So what? Say _storebror _or I will pack your things for Durmstrang myself."

The next day, the two brothers are on a plane bound for Britain, Norway still smiling smugly.

-/|\-

"Big Brother! BIG BROTHER!"

Switzerland is cleaning his favorite rifle, Verena, when he hears Liechtenstein scream for him. He startles and Verena clatters unceremoniously to the floor. He winces. It might have to be repaired, which would cost a decent amount of money. Still, he shakes it off, because Liechtenstein matters more.

When he reaches her room, though, there are no attackers. In fact, very little seems amiss. His little sister sits in her desk chair, gaping at something Switzerland can't see. She quickly registers his entrance. "Big brother, look at the spider!" He follows her gaze to a black spider, perhaps two centimeters long, suspended in midair.

"Liechtenstein!" he reproaches. "You can deal with a spider yourself, can't you? It's just a bug." To prove his point, he swipes his hand over the spider in an attempt to cut the web it must be hanging from. But the spider stays where it is. Frowning, he tries again, twirling his hand around the spider from all angles, but it still stays suspended where it is.

"That's the problem, Big Brother. It's like it's flying, but it doesn't have wings. It was on the floor before, but then I looked up, and it started flying!" Liechtenstein explains. "Do you think it-it's magic or something?"

"Liechtenstein, you know magic isn't real. Britain just has issues. There's probably a perfectly logical explanation. Here, I'll kill it, and then we can go on with what we were doing before, okay?" Switzerland says, and Liechtenstein drops her gaze guiltily. With her gaze drops the spider.

She squeaks in fright and grabs her brother's hand, but he just rolls his eyes. "See? Whatever was wrong before is gone. Go back to your book," he suggests, gesturing toward the novel Liechtenstein had been reading before as he smashes the spider with the heel of his boot. Nodding mutely, she sits down again. He starts back down the stairs, calculating how much it could possibly cost to repair Verena. Maybe he can fix it himself…

"BIG BROTHER!"

"What is it now, Liechtenstein?" he calls back up the stairs.

"Could you please come here again? There's a dove at the window, and I remember what you said about wild animals, but it's holding a letter and it's really cute!"

Switzerland sighs. "I'm coming," he announces.

When he reaches her room for the second time, she is standing at the window, cooing at the small white bird on the sill. As he gets closer to the window, Switzerland recognizes the dove as Pierre, France's dove, indeed carrying a letter. Scowling, Switzerland opens the window and lets the dove in, taking the lavender envelope from its beak before shooing the bird out again. He opens it, checking it over before reading aloud to Liechtenstein:

"Mon cher _Liechtenstein,_

_My Minister of Magic has informed me that someone in your household has done magic – a hover charm of some sort, I believe – and, as it cannot possibly be you brother, it must be you. As all magic users are supposed to be trained in the magical arts, and, as neither you nor your brother has a magic school, I should like to invite you to attend my school, Beauxbatons, to hone this new talent. Of course all possible measures will be taken to make your educational experience as comfortable as possible. In fact, I shall attend to that myself. Please consider this offer and I will hopefully hear from you later._

Jusque-là,

_France_"

"No," Switzerland states simply, ripping the note into shreds that flutter to the floor. "We do not trust France at all. He should be avoided. Especially if he's talking like that."

Liechtenstein hesitates but nods in resignation. "Yes, Big Brother." Then something else captures her attention. "Oh, look! Another bird! An owl!" she says, pointing again at the windowsill. This time, she lets it in herself, and the tawny owl drops the ivory envelope from its beak and sits patiently just inside the window. Switzerland sighs and picks this envelope up as well, taking the note out.

"_Good day to you, Liechtenstein, and, quite probably, Switzerland-_

_If you have not already, you will probably be receiving a note soon from France. Please disregard it. Instead, I would like to invite the two of you would stop by my house in London a few days before the next World Conference, since you'll need to be coming that way to get to Dublin for the meeting anyway. We will also be expecting Iceland and Norway. Thank you._

_Arthur Kirkland_

_The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland_"

"So may we go to London at least, please, Big Brother?" Liechtenstein asks. "I think it would be nice to get out and do things together before the Conference. Besides, if Mr. Britain's inviting us, he pays for everything, right?"

After a moment's consideration, Switzerland nods in resigned agreement, earning him a tight hug from his little sister. "Go on, get packed," he orders. "The World Conference is in a week, and if we have to be in London before that, we had better be ready for anything. But first I have to go fix Verena."

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**And so that's the beginning! Iceland and Liechtenstein have magic! Yay! Sorry, I'm really excited about this. Please review, follow, favorite, etc. and the next chapter will be up soon! It'll feature pretty much every other nation that'll be in this and is rather extensive.**

**I have a poll going about nation characters that will be in here. Please take the time to vote for your favorites!**

**Þakka þér! Sjáumst seinna!**

**Translations:  
****lillebror - little brother, Norwegian  
Noregur - Norway, Icelandic  
storebror - big brother, Norwegian  
mon cher - my dear, French  
jusque-là - until then, French  
Þakka þér! Sjáumst seinna! - Thank you! See you later! Icelandic  
**


	2. To London!

**Hello again, world! Literally, world. People from all over have read the first chapter, from the USA to France to Macau and beyond! Quite honestly I got a bit overexcited about it, hence the second chapter in two days. But I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to DarkDramaLady and Zantetsuken Reverse for reviewing and favoriting this and them plus betsybugaboo for following. I still unfortunately don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter etc., because if I owned Harry Potter Neville would be as important a character as Harry, Ron, or Hermione. Just saying.**

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_**Rewrite posted: 4/21/13**_

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Chapter 2

"…So that would be Hogwarts. I really would be honored to have Liechtenstein and Iceland attend. I'm sure Scotland would agree, but he's gone and got himself drunk again. Don't worry; he'll stay away," Britain adds, catching Switzerland's concerned look. "I'll make sure of that."

Iceland rolls his eyes, eager for the meeting to be over. Orchestrating the entirety of his and Liechtenstein's magical educations was taking too long. Liechtenstein, sitting across the room next to her brother, takes another sip of her tea and locks eyes with him, smiling warmly. Distracted, she shivers and loses her grip on her teacup, dropping it and spilling tea all over Britain's rug. She jumps up and apologizes, pleading for a towel she could clean the rug with, but Britain just laughs.

"Oh, no, my dear girl. If you are going to use magic, then you should see some magic." He pulls a wand a little more than a foot long out of his blazer. "Here, watch. _Scourgify!_" The tea-stains on the rug fade as the onlookers watch. Britain grins. "I have been waiting to do that for years. So, what do you think? Are you two coming to Hogwarts?"

"If it means I'm not going to Durmstrang," Iceland sighs. Norway nods his approval.

Liechtenstein smiles at Britain. "Oh, thank you, I'd love-"

"No," Switzerland cuts in. "She means_ we'd_ love to."

All eyes turn on him. "Pardon?" Britain asks. "Switzerland, I'm sorry, but you don't have magic. It won't work."

Switzerland arches his eyebrows. "Do you think I'll let my little sister go to some weird magic school alone? She could get hurt with all those spells bouncing around! I don't need a frog for a sister. And all of those hormonal teenage boys... never mind. But if she's going, I am going as well. I don't care how you get me in. Just do it," he orders, sitting back down on the chair he didn't notice himself standing up from in a huff.

Britain blinks. "There is a spell I could try, maybe, to give you some power. It will probably be temporary, but it should last the school year. It will take me some time to find it, though, and I'll need to adjust it since you're a country, but… it might work," he explains hesitantly.

"Then do it!"

"Fine… I'll cast the spell tomorrow, alright? I need some time to revise the spell and the like."

"As long as it's done," Switzerland answers gruffly, and Liechtenstein gives Britain a sympathetic look. Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and so Britain goes to open the door.

"Austria? Hungary? What are you doing here?"

Austria just stands there looking uncomfortable, so Hungary answers for him. "We thought we would come early for the Conference, but there's a big storm over Ireland right now keeping the planes out. We heard Switz and Liech were already here, so we thought we'd drop by."

"Um… okay," Britain agrees hesitantly. "Would you like to come in for some tea? We were just finishing our little meeting."

"We're going to go now; I have some things I need to take care of before the Conference," Norway states. "I'll be back tomorrow." He pulls Iceland out the front door and they walk to their car. Iceland would later swear he hears something in the bushes, but doesn't bother to check.

-/|\-

"Shut up, they'll hear you!"

_"Mi amigo, _they're inside. _No pueden oír."_

"Well, shut up anyway! Hungary and that prissy aristocrat will be here anytime now."

"How did you find that out again…?"

"…You don't need to know. Now be quiet! They're here." Prussia pushes Spain further down into the bushes in front of Britain's house, happy that they are so thick. Austria gets out of his car in the driveway, going around to the passenger's side to open the door for Hungary. They walk up to the door holding hands. As soon as they enter the house, Norway and Iceland exit.

"What are they doing here?" Spain wonders aloud, and Prussia slaps him. Iceland pauses as if he had heard, but shrugs and moves on after a second.

Prussia breathes a sigh of relief. "You're going to ruin my awesome eavesdropping strategy like that! Why did I even bring you?"

At first, Spain is too busy laughing to answer. When he recovers, he looks up at Prussia with sparkling eyes and grins. "You're not giving up on her, are you, _Prusia?"_

"Huh?" Prussia had been too busy listening to Hungary, ear pressed to the wall, to hear him.

Spain just laughs.

-/|\-

Germany is ticked.

At least a week before every World Conference, Germany always starts getting ready. His list of things he does includes, but is not limited to, cleaning the house, finding someone to walk his dogs, filing paperwork early, filing paperwork to allow early filing of paperwork, writing his presentation, editing and often entirely writing Italy's presentation, stopping the mail and newspaper, compiling a list of Prussia's chores, and baking a _Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte _to bribe Prussia to do said chores. He had done all but bake the cake… and Prussia is nowhere to be found.

After calling his cell phone thirty-two times, sending eight texts, and calling every bar in the Berlin area and still not finding him, Germany is not only ticked, but concerned. Suddenly, a horrifying thought crosses his mind: what if Prussia is crashing the World Conference again? Within a second, Germany is back on the phone, ordering one of his agents to prepare an airplane.

"What do you mean, I can't get to Dublin? There's a storm? Who cares? Prussia is probably planning to crash the World Conference! …WHY THE HELL DID YOU FLY HIM TO LONDON? Don't give me that he's-a-nation stuff. I'm Germany, not him. _Ja, _I know he was East Germany… fine. Get the plane ready anyway; I'm going to London… no, don't worry, you won't be fired. See you in a few minutes."

-/|\-

"GERMANY! Help me help me help MEEEEEEEEEE!" Italy screams as he races down the street. He pants to a stop, dashing behind a tree in some citizen's lawn to rest, and tries to analyze his situation the way Germany taught him to. He knows five things: France is chasing him and Romano, Romano is somewhere behind him, there's a cat in the tree he's hiding behind, he really needs some pasta right now, and Germany called ten minutes ago to say he was about to fly to England.

Wait. Germany's flying to England. Italy can use that! He sees Romano catching up and pulls out a convenient white flag to signal him. Sure enough, Romano slows to a stop, fury in his eyes. "What are you surrendering to?! Surely not the wine b******! Come on, idiot, keep going!"

"Ve, but Romano, Germany's flying to England!"

"WHY SHOULD I CARE ABOUT THE POTATO FREAK?!"

"He'll protect us! Please, _fratello?"_

Romano rolls his eyes. _Where's Spain the one time I actually need him?_ "Fine. But only because the meeting's in Ireland anyway."

-/|\-

Denmark taps the desk anxiously as he waits for his brothers to appear on the screen. Well, he considers them brothers, younger brothers. But that's for another time.

Finally, Iceland's name gets a little green dot next to it instead of a gray one. _Ha!_ Denmark thinks triumphantly as he opens a new chat window with his adoptive brother. He asks the silver-haired country where he and Norway are, since they obviously aren't there for dinner like they were supposed to be tonight. Iceland evades the answer and tells him to shut up. It repeats, and they play this game for almost an hour before Iceland breaks down and mentions London. Denmark is dialing up Finland before the message even finishes loading.

"Hi, _Tanska!_" Finland calls into the phone. "Sorry, I'm using the speakerphone because Sve and I are working on something. Even Sve can't figure out how to build IKEA furniture, and he lives in the store!"

"It's not m' f'lt."

"That's okay, guys. Hey, how would you two like to rage-quit the IKEA stuff for a sec and go to London?"

-/|\-

Lithuania and Latvia are at Estonia's house for dinner, Poland tagging along, when Estonia receives a call from Finland, who wants to know if the Estonian wants to go to London. "Sve and Denmark and I are going anyway, and there's a huge festival coming up nearby! Care to observe?"

Estonia glances back to the others that are sitting at his table. "When would we be leaving, Fin?"

"Right about now. Sorry about the short notice, but some crazy stuff came up. You know Denmark."

Yes, Estonia does know Denmark. The two have shared some… interesting history. "I'll be right there, if you don't mind me bringing some friends. See you at the Tallinn airport, then?"

"Why Tallinn?"

"It's going to take a while for Poland to pack. No sense wasting time."

"M-hm. See you!"

-/|\-

China decides to go to Dublin early in order to be prompt for the meeting, but due to that storm, only manages to get as far as London.

Russia follows him. It is simple as that, da?

-/|\-

"Big Brother is no longer in Beijing," Belarus announces flatly, snapping closed her phone. "He is going to Britain now."

America blinks. "Do I want to know how you know that? Do I even want to know why he was in Beijing in the first place? Eh, probably not. But if he's going to England, your commie brother better not try to screw up Iggy and his economic system!" He shifts to the side to avoid the knife thrown at him. "Okay, okay, geez. But do you want to go look for him? I've been meaning to prank Iggy anyway." He proceeds to stuff his unfinished meeting agenda into his briefcase and throw said briefcase onto his chair. "Come on, ladies," he says, offering an arm each to Ukraine and Belarus. "We're going to London."

No one really notices Canada, who trails close behind even as they board the plane, observing his brother and the girls at his side, especially one of them. Others may think of his pseudo-stalking as creepy, but hey, it isn't his fault he's practically invisible even to his brother and the girl he sort of loves.

-/|\-

Due to some very amusing emails about Prussia from Spain, France jumped at the chance to drop in on the two nations while they eavesdropped on Hungary and Austria. It's not that France has anything against either of the victim nations, but Hungary has hit him too much and Austria opposed him in too many wars to let a golden opportunity for getting blackmail material with the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio pass him by.

-/|\-

Egypt had everything planned out beautifully: go to London (such a nice, neutral site, and still celebrating some level of international peace from the Olympics too!) before the next World Conference, get Turkey and Greece to sit and talk out some problems, get away from his own political issues for a while. As if it isn't enough of a headache for countries to be in revolution, he had been forced to mediate some nasty debates. Egypt is actually very good at mediation… just not of his own problems.

Their conference actually started out pretty well. Egypt successfully managed to push the topic away from the European Union, and after that, they shockingly got things done. That is, until a certain Japanese man was spotted in the street. Sadly, the conversation quickly turned to the same old argument. Egypt just buries his head in his hands. He should have known Japan would be visiting one of his best friends before the Conference…

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**Sorry for the big PoV switches... with thirty nations involved, well, they're not all going to be in the same place at the same time. Usually it'll just be a PoV jump and time will continue; it'll pretty much say it outright should there be two simultaneous events written with a break between. Regardless, I'm so glad you're enjoying this! Feel free to ask me about any part of the story. They should get to Hogwarts itself around chapter 7 or 8. This chapter ends some weeks before term starts. But believe me, you'll want to see Diagon Alley. I guarantee wands by chapter 5.  
**

**I'm not watching Beautiful World until it's out in dub, so if I make any canon errors for it, please tell me and I'll fix it.**

**Anyway, please review/follow/favorite. I appreciate critique and compliments equally, and reviews are great motivation~ And don't forget to vote on the poll, if you haven't already!**

**Diolch yn fawr! Welwn ni chi yn nes ymlaen!**

**Translations:  
mi amigo - my friend, Spanish  
no pueden oír - they can't hear, Spanish  
Prusia - Prussia, Spanish  
****Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte - black forest cake, German_  
_fratello - brother, Italian  
Tanska - Denmark, Finnish  
****Diolch yn fawr! Welwn ni chi yn nes ymlaen! - Thank you! See you later! Welsh**


	3. Why You Should Always Listen to Norway

**Hello! I'm up to five reviews! You people are Prussian! Specifically DarkDramaLady, Zantetsuken Reverse, and forever-sweet, as well as everyone else who favorited or followed this story. Anyway, I hope everyone was able to keep up with the slight insanity of last chapter. Tell me your thoughts in a review~ I still don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter, because I wouldn't be on FanFiction if I could write that well. Seriously. But now, the moment you've been waiting for: magic!**

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Chapter 3

The next day, Britain is ready for the spell. He is sure he has everything as perfect as possible. He had had to rewrite the spell a little to make it usable on nations instead of humans and there had been no tests of the revisions, but Britain is certain it can't go wrong.

Norway and Iceland get to his house at ten in the morning, Switzerland and Liechtenstein following fifteen minutes later. When they arrive, each party is herded down into Britain's basement, a large rectangular room with bookshelves lining three walls and several pentacles drawn in the floor. Once they are all in the room, Britain pulls out his wand.

"Now, Switzerland, if you could move to the center of the room," he instructs, and Switzerland nods and shifts as directed. Britain points his wand at him and holds up a book of spells.

"Wait; maybe I should check the wording of the spell first," Norway suggests. Britain glares at him in response and begins to recite the spell. A red light begins to glow at the end of his wand. Halfway through the incantation, the red light turns into a bright gold beam that shoots at Switzerland. It envelopes him in a net of gold threads, but he cannot move. Liechtenstein, watching from between the two Nordic brothers at the side of the room, grabs Iceland's hand in fright. Suddenly, as Britain finishes the spell, the gold threads disentangle themselves from Switzerland and gather into a shiny yellow mass by the tip of Britain's wand.

Then the little ball of light explodes, and for every anthropomorphic personification in London, the world goes black.

-/|\-

In the cases of Britain and Norway, the unconsciousness only lasts a few seconds; for Liechtenstein and Iceland, it lasts but a moment longer. The first thing Norway does when he wakes is to check his own brother. When he stirs, Norway goes on to Switzerland, who is still out. Britain is already sitting next to him anxiously.

"That… didn't go as planned," he concedes. Norway sighs and retrieves the book Britain had dropped. He flips to the correct page and reads the spell.

"It was a rather complicated spell," he states. "But I don't think this did what we intended. With this sort of wording, it's as if it was intended for all the nations, or at least those within range of the spell."

Britain jumps and turns to him. "That would mean at least Austria and Hungary have powers now too, if they're still here. I should call them…" he rummages in his pocket for a second before pulling out his phone and dialing. "Hello, Hungary, love?"

"Britain! Did one of your spells go wrong again? Austria and Germany and Italy and Romano and Spain and that idiot Prussia are passed out on the floor of my hotel room right now. And I was right in the middle of beating up Prussia for stalking me when I blacked out too. Oh, Austria's awake; I'll call you back." She hangs up before Britain can get a word in edgewise. Confused, he looks at the phone in his hand for a moment before shrugging and ending the call.

While he had been listening to Hungary, Iceland and Norway had both received calls of their own, and Liechtenstein had run to her brother's side and is trying to hold back tears. Iceland is listening calmly to Russia and attempting an explanation at why he, Poland, and Lithuania had all passed out at once in the middle of some little boutique nearby. Norway is holding his phone almost a foot from his ear as Denmark rants into his end. Britain sighs.

"There are obviously more nations here than we thought, dash it," he observes. "I guess I'll go place a call for everyone in London to come here, since we don't know who they are and everyone has obviously been affected." Norway nods in gruff agreement, and Britain starts dialing.

-/|\-

_My basement is not meant to fit thirty people._

Oddly, that is the first thing Britain thinks as he sizes up the crowd in front of him. Somehow, thirty nations had found their way to London; twenty-five if you don't include the expected Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Iceland, Norway, and Britain himself.

Putting aside matters of comfort, the blond nation steps to the front of the room and Germany calls the impromptu meeting to order. All eyes turn on Britain, who scrambles for words to explain. At first, the listening nations don't believe him. It's only when Norway finally pulls out a wand and levitates Denmark by his tie that anyone starts to believe him.

"Whoa, you could do magic this entire time and you didn't tell me? I'm offended, _Norge,_" Denmark gasps after Norway lets him down, too excited to be serious.

"So what does this have to do with us?" Austria asks impatiently.

Britain grimaces. "I believe the spell intended to give Switzerland magical abilities went wrong and hit all of the nations in the city," he explains. "Therefore, all of you should be able to do some magic. We'll need to test and make sure, though."

Almost every country in the room calls to try to do magic first, America finally winning out by sheer volume. He runs forward and grabs Britain's hesitantly offered wand, stopping and staring at it. "So… what do I do now?"

"Try a spell, you idiot," Britain suggests. "Hold up the wand and say '_aguamenti_.'"

America does exactly as he is told. Not bothering to check what he is aiming at, he sprays a jet of water right into Switzerland's face. Switzerland is nonplussed, to say the least.

"Well, if America can do magic, everyone can," he comments, wiping water from his cheek with the handkerchief Liechtenstein offers. "So what now? Do we _all_ have to go to Hogwarts or something?"

"It wouldn't be the worst idea," Britain replies as he forcibly takes his wand back from America. "I'm sure the headmistress would be able to accommodate us for safety's sake. We can't have untrained magic users running around Europe, now, can we? Strange things can happen with magic. In fact, I'll send her an owl now explaining this whole mess. Here, Fig!" he calls, and an owl swoops in to land on his outstretched arm. Britain quickly jots a note and gives it to the owl. "Minerva," he states, and the owl hoots and flies off. When Britain turns back to the crowd of countries, he is met with stares.

"Hold on. You have an owl named Fig that you use for your mail?" Turkey clarifies.

"Only the magical mail, but yes, that's the idea," Britain agrees, and laughter breaks out.

"This is insane!"

"You're insane!"

"Magic doesn't even exist!"

"SHUT UP!" Germany yells, and all eyes turn on him. "While I've never used magic myself, I believe it exists. It would certainly explain a lot of what's been happening lately. Let's give it a chance."

As if on cue, Fig the owl swoops into the room, dropping a letter into Britain's hand before fluttering back upstairs. Britain opens the envelope and reads the letter over. "Ah, good," he comments. "Minerva says that we can go as foreign-exchange students if I can get you ready."

"Define 'getting ready,'" Austria says warily.

Britain's eyes sparkle. "Well, that depends," he says. "How old do you want to be?"

* * *

**Have you ever noticed how the Harry Potter owls can go basically anywhere nearly instantaneously? It's like they themselves can Apparate. But would someone please explain to me why Britain's owl is named Fig? Because I'm not sure myself. Oh well. The poll is coming along nicely, but we still need more votes. Liechtenstein and Poland are in the lead!  
**

**I hate begging for readers to review, but please do so. It makes me really happy when I open my email and I have a review waiting for me! Or even just a favorite or follow. But especially a review. You'll get your choice of fish and chips (which will be made by the house elves, not Britain, I promise) or PASTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA from Italy!  
**

**Go raibh maith agat! Féach leat níos déanaí!**

**Translations:  
Go raibh maith agat! Féach leat níos déanaí! - Thank you! See you later! Irish**


	4. Preparations

**Hello! So many reviews! You guys rock! Five reviews for last chapter, courtesy of Zantetsuken Reverse, betsybugaboo, Kudo Shinichi Tanteisan, forever-sweet, and Aresjei. Here are your virtual fish & chips and pasta! *Gives food* Although I have one question: what was so funny last chapter? Besides our dear America epically failing with magic, I actually didn't intend to write much humor. I'm glad you liked it, but tell me what "it" is in a review, please~ Anyway, I swear I don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter. If I owned Hetalia, Estonia would be considered Nordic, thank you very much. He deserves it.**

**This is that awkward chapter that appears at least once in all lengthy fics with a lot of explanation of a setting change and some random humor. But here you go; hope you like it anyway!**

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Chapter 4

"I can't believe you got me into this, tomato b******," Romano groans as he follows the crowd of nations down the streets of London.

"Oh, come now, Roma. What did I do to cause this? And you must admit everyone looks good as teenagers," Spain attempts to reassure his former charge.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE THIRTEEN F***ING YEARS OLD!" he screams in answer, earning him several odd and uncomfortable looks from bystanders. Embarrassed, he lowers his voice. "And you just look wrong as a fifteen-year-old. What the f*** is with the ponytail anyway?"

As they were going to a school for teenagers, Britain had decided that it would be best if the nations looked the part. Several spells later, the years the countries would go into were chosen and said countries were changed back to how they looked as chibis of those ages. There was more than one unexpected or awkward change – Spain had regained the ponytail he had grown out as a pirate, and Hungary was given the body that made her first realize she was female. Ukraine blessedly lost some of her "large tracts of land" in her reversion to sixteen, though they are still very large.

"Hush, _fratello_. Britain says we're going somewhere," Italy informs him. Romano mumbles something about not caring what the tea-loving jerk has to say, but listens anyway. The convoy reaches a dark pub with a sign over the door reading _The Leaky Cauldron_. Britain opens the door in a gentlemanly fashion to let Ukraine and Liechtenstein in before intentionally dropping it in France's face. Shrugging, that nation opens the door and holds it for the others.

No one is entirely sure how, but the thirty nations somehow fit comfortably inside the pub. The bartender boggles at the number of people who had just convoyed into her establishment before turning to the one who looked most like a wizard she knew, albeit a younger version of said wizard. "Arthur?" she questions to be certain.

"Yes, Hannah, love, I'm still Arthur. Sorry, it's a rather long story that is probably more appropriate for another time. I don't suppose you have a room that could accommodate all of us for a brief meeting before we head into Diagon Alley," Britain says.

Hannah the bartender blinks. "You could probably use the cellar, but that's the most privacy I can manage for such a large group on short notice."

"The cellar is perfect, love," Britain smiles, and he leads the way downstairs.

Once in the cellar, the nations arrange themselves facing Britain, who shifts awkwardly under their gazes before speaking. "We are about to enter Diagon Alley, where we will get everything we need to go to Hogwarts. Norway is already at Gringotts retrieving some money from my vault for us to use. I've ordered the books and other standard materials ahead of time, so they shall be waiting at Hogwarts, but we still need robes, wands, and the other specialized supplies. After that… well, there's not enough time before the school year starts to do much, but I'd like to teach some basic spells so that we can fit in better. After all, it would be rather odd if there were a seventh year who couldn't even use basic first-year spells, wouldn't it? Now, from now on, everyone must use their human names. Do we all know each other's names?"

The crowd generally responded in the affirmative, so Britain moves on. "Good. We'll take the train to Hogwarts and then get sorted into houses. While we are at Hogwarts, I would still like to be able to give lessons pertaining to easier spells, if you don't mind. We have Minerva's – the headmistress's – complete cooperation."

Poland raises his hand, but does not wait to be called on before speaking. "Like, how does this sorting thing work? And, like, are those robes totally hideous? I don't want to be totally hideous."

Britain rolls his eyes. "The robes and school clothes are standard. You'll just have to get used to them. As for the sorting, students are put into one of the four houses based on personality. There's Gryffindor, which is the house for the bravest and boldest. Hufflepuff is for the kind and hard-working, or if there's someone who doesn't fit into any house, they usually go to Hufflepuff. Slytherin – more Dark wizards and witches have come from Slytherin than any other house, but that is not to say they are bad. They are simply very cunning and ambitious. Slytherin students and Gryffindor students have quite a rivalry, so be careful. The last house is Ravenclaw. Its students are intelligent and unique. When you are sorted, it's final. Don't complain. There are no really bad houses. Oh, good, Norway, there you are."

The aforementioned nation comes back into the room holding a large bag of money. As he and Britain divide it between themselves, chatter breaks out among the nations. Poland turns to Lithuania. "You're, like, totally going to be in Ravenclaw. You're so smart. Like, I wonder what house I'll be in. Probably just Hufflepuff where they dump the leftovers." His face brightens as he thinks of a possibility. "OMG, like, maybe I'll be in Ravenclaw with you! That would be so totally cool!"

"Yes, Poland, it would," Lithuania answers distractedly, and Poland starts happily ranting about the robes and how he hopes they are a good color. Lithuania lets his eyes and mind wander to Belarus, who is sitting next to an uncomfortable-looking Russia, and vows that he will get her out on a date with him sometime during the school year. Even if he does have to do it as a thirteen-year-old wizard.

"Alright then, we're leaving!" Britain calls, quieting the room. "Half of you please follow Norway; the other half, come with me."

The nations file out of the cellar and out the back door of the pub. Hannah waves to Britain as they go. Once behind the pub, Norway taps the brick wall with his wand, and it begins to deconstruct itself. A gasp ripples through the crowd of countries as they watch this first large act of magic. Predictably, they all disband immediately and run through the gateway to explore the stores beyond.

Britain sighs and slumps back against the reformed wall. "I wish someone would actually listen to me for once. Honestly, those idiots are going to get themselves killed at this rate."

Beside him, Norway shrugs. "We still have the money. They will come back when they realize they need Galleons instead of Euros or dollars or whatever they have. Although… ugh, _lillebror _ran off too. I don't think he'll come back on his own, so I'm going to go find him. See you," he says and walks off.

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**Spain has a ponytail! Cue fangirl mode complete with nosebleed. Seriously. Go look up the Pirate!Spain fanart; I don't really like Spain but I still admit he looks really good with the ponytail. It seems Romano begs to differ, though. But he's Romano. Who knows?**

**Unfortunately, there will be a short mini-hiatus before the next chapter's up. I'm guesstimating I'll be back around Tuesday or so. It will be worth the wait, though - the next chapter has the some of the nations' adventures in Ollivander's wand shop, the introductions of two OC students, and more. It's my favorite chapter I've written so far!**

**This story takes place in the 2012-2013 school year, and it finally occurred to me that Hogwarts is a big school that will have lots of students in it. So, if you want, you could help me out a bit by generating characters: names, grades, houses, general appearance, favorite hobby, and any extra info you want to give. Please note that no OC's from readers will have a huge role, but they will be there (importance-wise, they may be up to the equivalents of Ernie MacMillan or Angelina Johnson, but no more, probably less). I especially need more Quidditch players; they will be chosen from among submissions. Please consider all houses, grades, and genders. IF YOU WISH TO SUBMIT, PLEASE DO IT VIA PM. This will be open until the next chapter's up!**

**You people are awesome. Reviewers get France's crepes or Canada's maple syrup!**

**Grazie! Ci vediamo più tardi!**

**Translations:  
fratello - brother, Italian  
lillebror - little brother, Norwegian  
Grazie! Ci vediamo più tardi! - Thank you! See you later! Italian**


	5. The Magical Diagon Alley

**Hello again! Yep, I lied. It's not Tuesday yet. But darn it, this is one of my favorite chapters, and I couldn't wait. But anyway. Thank you to Zantetsuken Reverse, Aresjei, xXNaidaXx, and Crazy Awesome Neko for reviewing the last chapter and more thanks to Zantetsuken Reverse and Aresjei for OC's. I need more of those, people! Help me out a little! It's not hard. Or if you can't do an OC, reviews are also nice~ I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter. If I owned Hetalia, it would never have become anything near popular, because I can't draw!**

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Chapter 5

America thought he had died and gone to heaven when he saw the ice cream parlor – the _magical_ ice cream parlor. He dragged Canada in against the latter's will, and the two are sharing an eighteen-scoop sundae when Britain finds them. "Well, I've finally found someone," Britain huffs, grabbing America by the collar and dragging him away from the table. "We need to get to work, America. You still need robes and a wand and an owl. Come on." He lays a Galleon for the ice cream on the counter in an afterthought, and then the pair leaves the parlor (Canada, forgotten, finishes the sundae before setting out on his own.).

"Aw, come on, Iggy, can I at least get an eagle instead of some stupid owl?" America whines as he and Britain wander through Eeylops Owl Emporium. A barred owl near them hoots indignantly at his statement, and Britain grins.

"Alfred will take that one," he tells the shopkeeper, indicating the barred owl. As they walk out of the store after paying, Britain asks America what he will name the bird.

"Um… how about Roosevelt? That dude was a pretty awesome boss. He was carved into Mt. Rushmore, y'know."

"Yes, yes, I know," Britain says hurriedly as they go into Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, America carrying Roosevelt's cage. Inside that store, the duo finds Italy getting measured by an older witch, Hungary standing by the wall as she waited.

"Hello, Arthur. Sorry we ran off on you like that," Hungary apologizes when she sees them. "I just thought we'd start getting measured for robes."

Britain smiles. "Oh, that's just fine, love, but you don't have any money. Here, this should cover some robes. How many people are with you?"

"Roderich finished first and just left, but Antonio and Lovino should be around here somewhere."

As if on cue, a loud "WHAT THE HECK? I LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT!" rings out from a curtained corner of the shop. Hungary apologizes to a stressed-looking Madam Malkin and hurries over. Deciding that Hungary could make sure that things get done with her group and that the shopkeeper had enough on her hands for the moment, Britain takes this as a cue to leave and leads America out of the shop.

"So… the only other place we have to go is Ollivander's, for your wand," Britain states. "At least until poor Madam Malkin gets finished with Lovino and Feliciano."

"Whatever, Iggy. Hey, look, I see Switz- I mean Basch and Lili! Hey, guys! What's up?"

Liechtenstein smiles when she locates America. "We were just looking in the Magical Menagerie store, and now we're going to buy wands. How are you doing, Alfred? That's a really cute owl you have."

"Yeah, Roosevelt? I just got him. We were going to go buy wands too! Come on!" America calls, motioning excitedly for them to join him and Britain. They do, and the four make their way to Ollivander's. Britain reaches for the doorknob to go in just as Norway opens it from the other side. Iceland follows his brother out, holding a black wand box. He nods acknowledgement to the group as he slips into the crowd and they convoy into the tiny store.

"Oh, hello! What are your names?" the old shopkeeper greets. In response, Britain just smiles, eyes twinkling, and hands his wand to Mr. Ollivander. "Hawthorn, phoenix feather core, thirteen inches," he observes. "And still in almost as good of condition as when I sold it. Hello, Arthur. It's been quite a long time since you stopped in, hasn't it?"

"Indeed it has been, Mr. Ollivander, sir. These are Lili, Basch, and Alfred. I see you've met Lukas and Emil already."

"Yes, that Emil lad just bought his first wand. Bois d'Arc, unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches. One of the rarer woods, but a fine wand, a fine wand indeed." He adjusts his glasses on his nose. "Now, Arthur, I hope you shall explain all this. For example, why I just sold one wand to the entire nation of Iceland."

As Britain launches into the story, beginning with Liechtenstein's and Iceland's discoveries of their powers, Mr. Ollivander starts pulling thin boxes seemingly at random from the shelves. The other three nations in the room are, to say the least, concerned at the obvious ease with which Britain talks about their little secret. Still, the old man does not seem like a threat, and eventually they come to the decision that Britain could have a confidante. Besides, the wands are a little distracting. A moment after Britain finishes his narration, the shopkeeper hands a dark blue box to America, who pulls out a dark mahogany wand patterned with leaves. He just stands there looking at it for a moment. "Well, go on, try it out," Mr. Ollivander urges.

"Um… _aguamenti?_" America suggests, and the wand releases a spurt of fine mist.

"No, that's not it, then," the old shopkeeper says, though he does not seem disappointed. He hands America a white box holding a very long maple-wood wand.

He flicks it with another cry of "_Aguamenti!_" but nothing happens. "Huh, guess that one doesn't work," America says nonchalantly, placing the wand back in the box and giving putting it back on the desk.

"May I try?" someone says from behind America, who whirls around, not having expected Canada to be there.

"Uh, sure, dude. Next time, please tell me you're here, will ya, bro?"

"I was in here before you were…" Canada says, but gives it up and takes the white box. The simple wand fits comfortably in his hand, feeling almost natural. Canada flicks it upward and yelps as his brother goes up with it. Mr. Ollivander is grinning.

"Well, Canada," he says, and Canada decides it's better not to ask how the old man knows his nation name, "I think that's your wand. A bit strangely tempered for maple and phoenix feather, but I can't complain. Do you like it?"

"Yes," Canada says confidently, pushing America a little higher into the air.

"I thought so. Now you may wish to put down your brother so I can get him his wand." Canada nods and breaks his concentration, leaving America crashing to the floor. It is oddly satisfying. Mr. Ollivander chuckles and presents America with another wand box, this one burgundy. Inside is a redwood wand half an inch shorter than Canada's with a pattern of stars pressed into the wood.

Just for the moment in which America pulls it out of the box, the world seems a bit sharper, the dim store a bit brighter. He also thinks he sees a flying green bunny near Britain's head before he decides to drop the wand. "Dude," he says, addressing no one in particular, "Dude, that wand has drugs in it or something, I swear!" Britain rolls his eyes and Mr. Ollivander laughs. It takes a little convincing, but America finally gives in to the others' promises that no, wands can't be drugged; that's just what happens to some people when they find the right wand.

Finding Switzerland's wand is easy – the first one he tries, a simple and roughly-hewn ten inch ash wand with a phoenix feather core, works well for him, producing a stunning bouquet of edelweiss flowers – but Liechtenstein's wand takes time. The first ten blatantly reject her, refusing to produce any magic at all. For a while, Mr. Ollivander is at a loss. Then he seems to think of something, and he digs through piles of boxes at the back of the store for five minutes before producing one more wand.

The box looks as if it was once white, but age has changed it to a tone reminiscent of the ivory keys of Austria's piano. Inside lays an ebony wand. It is simple but elegant, and Liechtenstein does not even need to try a spell to know it is meant to be hers; even without a verbal spell, though, a gorgeous blue-and-purple butterfly flutters from the tip. It lands on Switzerland's flowers, resting there until Britain pays for the wands and the five leave the shop to continue their wanderings in Diagon Alley.

-/|\-

France has long known about magic and the magical community, having Beauxbatons, but has never gotten a wand of his own. He never had the ability to use magic himself – until now. And now that he can, even though he is in England and in the body of a fifteen-year-old, it's as good a time as ever to receive one.

He catches Norway as the latter leads Denmark away from Sugarplum's Sweet Shop, receives his allotment of Galleons from him, and makes his way to Ollivander's Wand Shop, taking care to avoid Britain and his entourage in the process. Somehow the old shopkeeper knows "Francis's" true identity right away, asking what he could do for the fine country of France today, but France knows better than to press for an explanation. He tries almost twenty wands of different woods – from lilac and silver lime to bird's eye maple and purpleheart – before he finds one that feels right. Paying for the wand, France bids _adieu _to the shopkeeper and steps into the street, examining his purchase. Ten inches, phoenix feather core, elder wood.

Elder wood. Said to belong only to the best of any company. Also said to bring affinity with owners of rowan wands, but, as he knows no rowan-wand owners, France focuses on the first part. He must be the best. Absorbed in these thoughts, he doesn't entirely watch where he is going.

"Oh, I am sorry, _mon cher_," France apologizes to the redheaded girl he had hit accidentally on his way down the street. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"You're bloody right you weren't looking," she retorts, reaching into her robe. She gasps. "My wand! Where is it? You!" she yells at France, snapping her fingers at him. "Did you see my wand? It obviously was knocked out of my robes when you bumped me."

"_Non,_ but I'll help you look. What does it look like?"

She glances around the crowded street before snapping, "How many wands would be on the ground now, wanker?" After a moment of stunned silence and another check of her surroundings, though, she softens. "It's rowan - eleven and a half inches. Sorry. My name is Charlotte; I'm a Slytherin fourth year at Hogwarts."

The girl confuses France, but he is not one to refuse to help a damsel in distress. He begins to search the ground until he hears Charlotte let out an exasperated sigh. "Why don't you just summon it?" she suggests. "You know, 'accio Charlotte's wand.'"

"Oh... right." France is thankful she had said the spell, because he didn't know it. He lifts his brand new elder wand, praying that it doesn't fail him now. "Accio Charlotte's wand!" A dark stick flies at him from the gutter, and he catches it, dusting the rowan off before presenting it dramatically to Charlotte.

"You're quite the... odd... wizard," she says as she accepts her wand. "And I haven't seen you in Hogwarts before. Who are you? What house are you in?"

France sweeps into a bow, taking Charlotte's hand and kissing it. She jerks her hand back, but she blushes. "_Je m'appelle_ Francis Bonnefoy. I have not yet been to Hogwarts, though I shall be going there this year as a fifth year student. Some... strange circumstances arose where I used to be taught."

"Very well, then," Charlotte replies awkwardly, blush lingering at her cheekbones. "I guess I-"

"Hey! Charlotte!" someone calls, cutting Charlotte off rudely. A brown-haired girl with flashing green eyes approaches them, eying France warily. "Who are you?" she asks haughtily, but turns to Charlotte before he can begin his usual flirtatious introduction. "Who's this mudblood? You know what? It doesn't matter. Come on, Charlotte, we need to get our books."

"But Sasha, he - I - you shouldn't ca-"

"Come ON, Charlotte. We're wasting time here." As the Sasha girl begins dragging her away, Charlotte looks back apologetically. France just nods and sympathetically smiles. He would see Charlotte soon enough.

The owners of elder wands are said to have strong affinities with those of rowan wands. Perhaps it is just the romantic in him, but France is inclined to agree.

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**Come on, people, say it with me. You know you want to: awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! And yes, France has an elder wand. Not THE Elder Wand, but an elder wand nonetheless. Those things are awesome.  
**

**But I digress. To anyone who hasn't voted on the poll yet, please please please do? *Puppy dog eyes* I'm getting to a point in my writing of this where I have to start picking nations to focus on for certain events, and their popularity may play a small part in those decisions. Also, please review? It makes me so happy when I get reviews, and I'm sort of falling behind my goal. Call me selfish, but this story has some of my best writing so far, and I want to know what everyone thinks of it. I don't care if it's positive, negative, whatever. Review?**

**Thank you! See you later!**

**Translations:  
adieu - farewell, French  
mon cher - my dear, French  
non - no, French  
je m'appelle - my name is, French**


	6. International Relations

**Hello, good world! Seven reviews for this chapter! THANK YOU PEOPLE, especially Aresjei, Zantetsuken Reverse, betsybugaboo, xXNaidaXx, Cookie05, Idea-explosion, and Iricelli! I have some good OC ideas, too, so we can be done with that. Thanks! Anyway, I still don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter, because if I did Cedric wouldn't have died and gone on to become a vampire. Now enjoy the butterbeer and review, please~**

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Chapter 6

Denmark leaves Norway as soon as he gets his wand and manages to grab some extra Galleons from him on the way. Why he was expected to stay put he isn't sure; after all, he has his sexy Viking-era body back and can use magic. This is a time for exploration. _But first I want a beer,_ he thinks, redirecting himself to the pub they came in from, only to find Prussia already there. Said nation waves Denmark over when he sees him, calling to the barmaid for another butterbeer (whatever that is) as he does so.

"So, you get your wand yet?" Prussia asks as they wait, taking another swig of his drink. "Mine's awesome. Mistletoe wood."

"Mistletoe? We had a legend about mistletoe once; it's Norse mythology. Long story short, Baldur, the son of the goddess Frigga, was killed by the trickster god Loki using mistletoe because Loki just felt like it. _Norge_ had some pretty weird ideas back in the day." Denmark is interrupted by the barmaid, Hannah, giving him a butterbeer. It looks like a beer with a thicker head, so Denmark does not hesitate. "_Skål,_" he toasts, lifting the bottle up before taking a drink.

It does not taste like beer.

It tastes better.

Nine bottles and two resultant restroom trips later, Denmark bids Prussia farewell to spend whatever Galleons he has left on things other than butterbeer. He wanders out of the pub, not looking for anything in particular. When he sees Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, though, he knows where he's going.

The inside of the store is like a carnival. There is a display of toy cars that seem to hover a bit over where they are supposed to be. In one corner, a gaggle of young girls is fawning over something Denmark can't see. One wall is covered with candies and another with supplies for pranks. A purple display near the back catches Denmark's eye most, though, and so he investigates. Upon closer inspection, he sees the display is of little pouches of something.

An employee in magenta robes comes up to Denmark as he looks. "What do you think of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?"

"Peruvian what?"

"Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Throw a bit in the air and it'll get so dark in that room that no one can see. Light spells can't even penetrate it. The more you use, the longer it lasts. Though we've had some complaints in the past, so you're going to have to be sixteen to buy it," the employee, perhaps sixteen or seventeen himself, explains.

"Well, I'm definitely sixteen, so I'll take some," Denmark says, grabbing a pouch. "Now, this is my first time here, and I like this place. What else have you got for me?"

-/|\-

It would not be fair to Britain and Norway to say that finding all of the nations they are responsible for is difficult. It is actually next to impossible. Somehow, though, they manage, mostly thanks to Britain's idea of bribing America with a scoop of ice cream per nation he brings back. In the end, it pays off, and they finish their shopping with as few hitches as possible with such a group.

The new merchandise is piled in an out-of-the-way corner and Britain teleports it back to his basement with a flick of his wand. The nations march back through the Leaky Cauldron – Denmark buys several bottles of butterbeer on his way out – and into the Muggle world. On their way back, it is as if nothing has happened. Romano pulls Spain away from the girls that flock to him like turtles. Belarus stays as close to Russia as is possible. Latvia stays as far from Russia as is possible. Liechtenstein skips ahead, closely followed by Switzerland. The world goes on. Britain sighs, relishing the normalcy. Tonight he would have to plan out lessons to make sure the nations are competent enough for their classes and work out the other, finer parts of his plan. Like where they were to practice before school begins.

Suddenly getting an idea, Britain smiles. Perhaps he can impose upon two other good old friends, just for a while.

-/|\-

"Ah, Arthur! I'm so happy you sent an owl. It's been a long time." Molly Weasley steps out onto the porch of the Burrow to give Britain a hug, which he happily returns.

"Yes, sorry it was on such short notice, love. I really do appreciate you letting us use your place for a while."

"Oh, there's no problem at all! The tents are in the broom closet outside; I'm sure you can set them up. We'll have dinner when Arthur – Mr. Weasley, I suppose; don't want to get you two mixed up somehow – when Mr. Weasley gets home."

"You don't have to cook for all thirty of us, really."

"I won't be. They have multiplying spells for a reason, don't they?"

"Very well. I really do appreciate this, Molly."

"As long as someone explains what exactly this is about to me later, I'm fine with it. You're a responsible wizard. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you." Molly smiles and waves at the line of nations behind Britain before retreating back into the Burrow to clean and cook.

"Tents?" Austria confirms woefully.

"Tents," Britain agrees, grinning. "But I guarantee even you will like these tents, Roderich. Alfred, come help me move them; they'll be heavy."

"Got it!"

The two tents are quickly retrieved and set up by Britain and America as the other nations look on skeptically. They appear to only be able to hold perhaps four people each. When the boys enter the one Britain directs them to, however, they find that it is much grander. The front room has a ten-foot-high ceiling and two long tables with twenty-six chairs in total. The walls are canvas, but one still somehow has two doors in it. One is open to a bathroom. Greece curiously opens the second to reveal a long row of bunk beds. Shrugging, he takes advantage of the bottom of the first one until Turkey quite literally drags him into an argument.

The girls' tent is rightfully smaller, with a circular table with four chairs in the front, an alcove to the side with two bunk beds, and two doors as well – one to the bathroom, one to a walk-in closet. After touring their lodging (and squealing over the girls' closet, in Poland's case), the nations reconvene outside.

"Well, I think it's time to get started, then. The first years don't really have to participate, since I'll just be teaching from their curriculum today anyway," Britain explains, and twenty-five nations are herded into a line by Britain and Norway, leaving first years Latvia, Liechtenstein, and Iceland to do what they please. For a while they watch the older ones learn charms, but when one of Poland's spells goes haywire and Latvia has to tackle Liechtenstein to keep her from being set on fire, Iceland suggests they go inside.

He knocks on the door of the Burrow, the other two standing behind him awkwardly. "Hello, dears. What can I do for you?" asks Mrs. Weasley when she opens the door.

"We were just hoping to come inside for a while," Latvia says. "I mean, if it's alright. It's getting sort of dangerous out there." He gestures toward Russia, who has mastered the fire-making charm and is practicing by continually sending it toward Estonia, who always ducks away just in time.

"Well, then, come in, dears. I'll make some tea. What are your names?"

"Emil."

"Raivis…"

"And I'm Lili. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. We appreciate your help a lot."

"Oh, no problem, dear. Now, at the risk of sounding rude or nosy, what countries do you represent? Arthur's told me a lot about you and your friends."

"You know too? I didn't think he told that many people," says Liechtenstein, surprised.

"My husband and I were part of the Order of the Phoenix. We heard a lot of very… secretive things."

"Order of the Phoenix?" Latvia questions.

"Yes, dear. But you'll learn about it in History of Magic."

"Well, I'm Iceland, and I'm going now, if you don't mind," Iceland announces. "I think I forgot to feed my puffin." He leaves the Burrow without another word. Mrs. Weasley arches her eyebrow but says nothing, instead turning her attention on Latvia.

"L-L-Latvia," he stutters. "And I think I'll go too." He races out after Iceland.

Liechtenstein explains, "I'm sorry; they're just a little nervous. Usually people aren't told exactly who we are, or if they are told, it's only our own citizens, and most of them don't really believe it. The only one I thought really told a lot of people is France, and Big Brother Switzerland told the nice lady who lives next door to us."

"So you're Liechtenstein?"

"Yes. Thank you; lots of people haven't heard of my country, or they think it's a part of Big Brother's or Mr. Austria's land." The tea kettle whistles, and Mrs. Weasley smiles and pours two cups. The two sit in silence for a while, enjoying the tea, before Liechtenstein offers to help Mrs. Weasley cook.

"Well, what do you propose we have for dinner?"

Liechtenstein shrugs. "Big Brother likes my sandwiches. They'll be good for if they want to keep practicing too."

"A fine idea, then. Ham or turkey?"

"Turkey, please."

A single extravagant sandwich is made and placed in the middle of a huge platter. Mrs. Weasley tells Liechtenstein to back up from the table, which she does, and then pulls out her wand and multiplies the sandwich with a wordless spell. In an instant the platter and another are filled, and the two women carry them outside.

"FOOD!" America whoops when he sees them. He races to Liechtenstein and snatches a sandwich. "Thanks, dudes!"

Chuckling to herself, Mrs. Weasley leads the nations into the boys' tent and the sandwiches are shared as soon as six extra chairs can be conjured. Dinner is interrupted by someone levitating a textbook and dropping it on Britain's head. The culprit is found to be Prussia, and Germany punishes him accordingly. Mrs. Weasley is slightly concerned by his requirement to do two hundred pushups in four minutes, but Liechtenstein can tell she's seen such things before.

Mr. Weasley comes in halfway through dinner, and after the initial surprise about the thirty supposed teenagers suddenly bunking on his property, he wastes no time in asking how movies work. Naturally, this causes France and Britain to instantly get into an argument, France explaining how he and his countrymen invented the movies, Britain insisting that "no one bloody CARES, wanker!" Germany breaks them up when they start a full fight about it, but not before a few nasty cuts were given. These Ukraine mends with a spell out of the textbook Prussia dropped.

"Do they always act like that?" Mr. Weasley asks Hungary. "They're worse than Fred and George were as teenagers."

"I'm afraid so," she answers, giggling slightly. "It's international relations. They always were like that, and still are, and evermore shall be. Don't you think it's sort of cute?"

* * *

**Oh, Hungary. Everyone's favorite fujoshi. But I've gotten through (most of) the necessary FrUK now. And Denmark would get semi-addicted to butterbeer, wouldn't he? As for the Weasleys, well, they had to make some sort of appearance, and some of this may come in again later.  
**

**The poll is coming along nicely, but Russia, Latvia, and Lithuania have votes and Eesti still doesn't. :-( Sorry, I'm an Estonia fangirl. But he's not the only one. Come on, people, show your multinational pride!**

**Just to clarify a few things: all nations will be students, they are in all different houses and years, and each has a unique wand. The spell Britain attempted to place on Switzerland to give him magical powers that then spread to everyone else was meant to last a year. This takes place in the 2012-2013 school year, and events should follow accordingly, within reason. But supposing - God forbid it, but supposing - there were to be a terrible attack or natural disaster of some sort in one of the countries in the story, it should be written in that they feel it, assuming it could have any relevance to plotline. They're still nations, after all.**

**Review, please?**

**Tak! Se dig senere!**

**Translations:  
Norge - Norway, Danish  
skål - cheers, Danish  
Tak! Se dig senere! - Thank you! See you later! Danish**


	7. The Hogwarts Express

**Hello again! We are up to 29 reviews, which puts us at 91st on the list of HP/Hetalia crossovers if you sort by number of reviews. Let's get to at least 50th eventually~ Anyway, I found a cover picture - Eesti in Ravenclaw! Of course, I don't own this picture and didn't actually ask to use it, so... thanks, random person on dA that I stole that from! Also thanks to all our magnificent reviewers, who this chapter included Iricelli, Zantetsuken Reverse, Cookie05, MechaBunny, and forever-sweet! I still don't own Harry Potter or Hetalia. If I did, Dobby wouldn't have died, at least not before he could kill Bellatrix.**

* * *

Chapter 7

"So I guess Lukas should go first; I'll stay back here and direct. You must be careful. Run if you have to, but you need to _believe _you can get through. Now, Lukas, if you will…"

After two weeks of practice at the Burrow, the nations are all acquainted with the basic spells and potions that they will need in everyday life at Hogwarts. Earlier today they left the Weasley residence for King's Cross and are lining up in front of the Platform 9 ¾ barrier with many goodbyes. Liechtenstein had become very attached to Mrs. Weasley, and China and Mr. Weasley had spent hours discussing Muggle products (that is, until Hungary interrupted them, at which point Mr. Weasley quickly excused himself). Remarkably, no one had really gotten hurt during their weeks of practice, though Estonia did end up with a few burns from Russia's "practice," and Egypt hadn't been able to participate much because of the turmoil in his country making him ill. Still, they managed to get the necessary lessons and arrive at King's Cross Station on time by using Mr. Weasley's magically expanding flying limousine.

Norway nods and pushes his luggage into the barrier, disappearing after it. Many nations gasp, but Britain just smiles and nudges Liechtenstein forward before Switzerland can complain that she's running at a brick wall. She squeezes her eyes shut and runs as fast as she can toward the barrier while pushing her trunk. For a second something feeling like water is around her, but then Norway is taking her hand and pulling her out of the way of whoever's next and she must be through. She opens her eyes.

Platform 9 ¾ is even more full of people than the rest of King's Cross had been. All of the students milling around lug trunks behind them. The mothers of the younger ones fuss over them and cannot seem to stop hugging them goodbye. A gleaming black-and-red steam locomotive sits on the tracks, a long line of passenger cars behind it; each reads "Hogwarts Express." Iceland joins Liechtenstein in her observation when he gets through the barrier right after her.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, turning to look at her.

"No," Liechtenstein admits, shaking her head. "But we don't have much choice, do we?"

"I hope we're in the same house," Iceland says, then blushes and tries to recover his usual demeanor. "I-It would be nice to know someone in our classes, you know?"

"Yeah…. Well, there's Latvia – um, Raivis, sorry – in our year too, if all else fails."

"I guess…." It gets pretty awkward pretty fast then, so both are glad when Norway finishes helping the others through and orders them to begin boarding the train.

Having already taken care of his own luggage, Switzerland finds Liechtenstein and helps her bring her trunk to the compartment he had laid claim to. Austria and Hungary are already there. While Austria busies himself reading a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ he had obtained in Diagon Alley, purposefully ignoring Switzerland, Hungary greets them and helps Liechtenstein put her owl's cage up on the high luggage rack. Closing the compartment door, the girls make pleasant conversation, trying and mostly failing to pull the boys into it, and soon the train begins to move.

-/|\-

"…And I was like, 'Well, I'm using Poland Rule,' so I like totally won that, right, Liet?"

"Sure, _Feliks_, of course." Lithuania had been trying to get Poland to use the nations' human names all day, making very little progress. Poland just didn't seem to understand how necessary it is. So far, he was calling Liechtenstein Lili and no longer used "Lithy" as a secondary nickname for Lithuania, which is something, albeit not enough. The last thing any of them needs, in Lithuania's mind, is to have to explain away being a nation.

Across the compartment from them, Estonia looks up from his laptop and sighs. "You know you're going to have to start using our human names eventually, don't you, Feliks?"

"Aw, but I don't want to! I, like, don't like them."

"I don't want to give up my laptop, but I will, because it's what I'll have to do. There will be too much magical interference at Hogwarts for this. I just need to send one last email, and then I'm off for the school year. You can do the same, can't you? Just with names."

"Fine."

"Fine who?"

"Fine, _Eduard_."

"There you go!" Lithuania encourages, looking at Estonia thankfully. As they lock eyes, a full conversation passes between them, a skill perfected by all three Baltics during the long Soviet years when communication could be difficult. _Thanks._

_ You're welcome. I just hope he remembers._

_ He will when it counts. What are we doing about Latvia?_ Lithuania flicks his gaze over to the first year concernedly.

_He should be fine if he's not in Russia's house. I won't be calling for him every time he makes a mistake this year, though; that's for sure._

_ Mm-hm. Remember last time you made that resolution?_ In response, Estonia just rolls his eyes.

Latvia, oblivious to all this, looks up from his novel to ask, "Won't we have to change into our robes or something before we get there?"

"Aw, I don't look-" Poland cuts himself off when Lithuania gives him a look.

"Feliks, we have magical powers! How can you complain?"

"I guess I can't…"

"Right. Now let's play some cards and I promise I'll buy you some chocolate later," Lithuania swears, and judging by his squeal of delight, Poland seems to quite approve of this plan.

-/|\-

The train had just started moving when Sweden hears a knock on the compartment door. He opens it to see Germany with a bouncy Italy behind him. "Do you mind if we sit here? All the other compartments are either full or utterly insane. Or both," Germany pleads. Not seeing any problem with this, Sweden opens the door all the way and steps aside to let them in. Finland looks up from the book he is reading when he hears them enter.

"Oh, hey, Ludwig! Hi, Feliciano! We don't have any problem with you guys being here, right, Sve?" Sweden grunts in the negative, so Finland continues. "I was just reading about Hogwarts. It seems there was a big battle there in 1998 when they killed a bunch of Dark wizards."

"Ve… that's scary!"

"Come to think of it, Arthur hadn't been to many meetings that year," Germany observes.

Finland smiles. "And no wonder. But don't worry, Feli, they're long gone. Some of the people who were students then are teachers now. No, I think the biggest threat now is inter-house rivalry, which, if anything, grew bigger since the Battle of Hogwarts, especially between Gryffindor and Slytherin. But that mostly stays in the Quidditch arena."

"W't's Qudditch?" Sweden inquires.

"A wizarding sport, sort of like basketball and football mixed together and played while flying on brooms. Hey, maybe some of us will get on the teams!"

"I'm not going to try out," Germany shrugs. "Schoolwork first. RIGHT, Feliciano?"

"Right, Ludwig!"

"Good. What else does it say in that book, Tino? Research is an excellent idea."

"Well, the castle…"

-/|\-

"Alright, Icy, you record bets for me. Denmark, you take the left side of the car with America. I'll get the right. Make sure you watch out for any unawesome people who'll report us. And here we go!"

Prussia, Denmark, America, and Iceland had been stuck in the same compartment and Prussia had decided to take bets on house placements to earn a few more Galleons – more butterbeer for him! Naturally, Denmark and America were automatically in, and Iceland joined because he had nothing better to do. Now they convoy down the aisle of the nations' car, checking who is in each compartment through the blinds so that they could avoid anyone likely to give them grief about it.

"No, wait, Russia's in there!" Prussia pulls Iceland back. "Let's skip it please… oh, hey, Mattie."

"What are you doing?" Canada whispers, a sound just above a snake's hiss. "Arthur's going to catch you, or Lukas will."

"Nah, we're being careful. Who are you sitting with?"

"…Francis and Antonio and Lovino…"

"Yes! They'll participate for sure. Lead the way, Mattie."

"This is stupid of me, but… over here."

-/|\-

Unfortunately for him, Japan somehow ended up sitting with Greece, Turkey, and Egypt. With one blessed pause thanks to Denmark and some odd gambling he and Prussia had set up, the arguments continue for hours before Greece finally falls asleep in the middle of one of Turkey's angry rants. Only then – three hours into the ride – does Japan actually get some peace. That is, until the treat cart arrives.

It is a little-known fact among the Western nations that Japan has a magic school and, even more so, that he knows about it. But he does, and so remains unsurprised when the cart comes by with plenty of bizarre snacks that baffle the others. He himself only buys some Chocolate Frogs and a small bag of jelly beans, which he methodically picks through to find his favorites.

"Hey, can I try some?" Turkey asks. Japan silently hands over the bag after picking out all the salmon-flavored ones.

Turkey, not knowing about the odd flavors, grabs a bean at random. It is a dull golden yellow. It is only in his mouth a moment before he spits it out, swearing in Turkish. "WHAT THE F*** WAS THAT?!"

"I'm sorry, Sadiq-kun, but I thought you were aware of the strange flavors in that bag. I think that was an earwax-flavored one," Japan explains.

"WHO WOULD MAKE AN EARWAX FLAVORED JELLY BEAN?!"

"I'm really sorry, Sadiq-kun. Perhaps you would prefer this one?" He takes the bag back and fishes out a dark red bean, which Turkey hesitantly eats before smiling broadly.

"Paprika! Yes! That's better! What other decent flavors are in there?"

"Heracles, would you like to try one? Gupta?"

Greece, for some reason, looks hesitant. "Jelly beans? I'm not sure…"

"There's a lamb-flavored one," Turkey points out, having found the tag with the list of flavors. Greece perks up.

"I suppose I'll try one…" he agrees. Luckily for Japan, Turkey and Greece stop arguing for the rest of the ride in favor of splitting the jelly beans amongst themselves and Egypt. Japan smiles. Perhaps they all can get along after all.

* * *

**It's another bouncy PoV chapter, I know. But stuff happens! And they'll be at Hogwarts next chapter getting sorted! And then I can rant about it! Because it's a lot harder than it looks... I know I sort of cut out like two weeks of the Burrow, but the important stuff was said last chapter and it was pretty much just Norway and Britain teaching 1st-year-leavel spells. We'll see many more lessons later.**

**The next chapter might be a while; it's going to be super long compared to these.**

**Greece is hesitant about trying the jelly beans for a reason. A long time ago, a certain famous Greek mathematician was completely phobic of beans. Pop quiz: who was it?**

**Please review and/or pass this story along to your friends and followers! It would really mean a lot to me.**

**Takk! Se deg senere!**

**Translations:  
Um, not a translation exactly, but when Finland says football he means actual football/soccer, not American football.  
Takk! Se deg senere! - Thank you! See you later! Norwegian  
**


	8. To Sort a Nation

**Hello, everyone! Sorry I've made you wait, but this chapter is nearly 1,000 words longer than my average, so I hope you can't complain. Thank you to Cookie05, Lyndana, MechaBunny, forever-sweet, Iricelli, WeirdCornChip, Crickett5, Equality4Puppies, and cherrygemini for reviewing! I still don't own Harry Potter or Hetalia, because if I did, Hetalia would have a French Revolution strip by now. Sorry, France. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this extra-long chapter, and you'll review it~  
**

* * *

Chapter 8

The Hogwarts Express pulls up to Hogsmeade Station at twilight, and the nations get off the train with the other students, dragging their luggage behind them. "Firs' years o'er here! Firs' years!" Liechtenstein hears as she disembarks the train, identifying the source as a huge man holding a lantern on one side of the platform. Norway ushers her toward the giant person, pushing Iceland and Latvia behind her. They cautiously approach and join the crowd of first years already milling around him as the older students clear the platform.

"M'name's Professor Hagrid, or ye could jus' call me Hagrid. I don' like bein' too formal. I'm the gamekeeper, and I teach Care o' Magical Creatures. Maybe you'll take it in yer third year. But we gotta get to Hogwarts first, don' we? We're gon' cross the Black Lake. Four to a boat, an' don' fall out if ye can help it. The Giant Squid's harmless, but we don' wanna take chances. Come along, then." He turns and leads the hesitant group of first years to the lakeside at the outskirts of Hogsmeade. By this time, it is dark, but the boats have lanterns at their bows. Latvia helps Liechtenstein into one before jumping in himself, followed by Iceland. They are about to cast off when a short boy with light brown hair catches the back of the boat.

"Um, may I join you?" he asks, a pleading look in his eyes. Most of the boats are already floating away from shore, so Iceland shrugs and shifts to make room for the boy. "Thank you," he smiles. "My name is Connor Brant."

"I'm Lili. Nice to meet you, Connor."

"I-I'm Raivis…"

"Emil." At his apathetic introduction, Liechtenstein pokes Iceland lightly, and he rolls his eyes before asking, "How are you, Connor?"

"Nervous. I'm scared of being Sorted. But I'm excited for Quidditch next year, so it should be worth it." He scans the mountainous horizon, and his blue eyes widen. "Look! There's Hogwarts!"

Sure enough, the castle is barely visible behind a hill on the other side of the lake. The boats guide themselves toward it. Once they dock, Latvia jumps out first, holding the bow still so Lili can disembark more easily. Hagrid calls the first years together and leads them up to the front steps of Hogwarts, where a witch in flowing indigo robes is waiting.

"Come along," she says airily, then turns and leads the procession of first years to the front hall. "Foreign students, if you could please meet the rest of your party through those doors," she adds, gesturing to some doors to the left. Iceland, Liechtenstein, and Latvia accordingly file into the next room, Connor wishing then luck from behind.

The other nations are already in the room when the first years enter. Some sit along the walls while others are crowded in groups, whispering amongst themselves. Liechtenstein skips over to Switzerland in a corner, Iceland finds the Nordics, and Latvia goes to the opposite wall, where Estonia, Lithuania, and Ukraine are talking.

"…And I've never seen anything like them. They were rather scary…" Ukraine muses before spotting Latvia. "Ah, Raivis, how was the boat ride?"

"Fine. A nice boy named Connor Brant rode with us. What are you talking about?"

"We were trying to identify the horses – or some horse-like things, anyway – that were pulling the carriages. They were black and very skinny and had wings," Lithuania explains.

"Oh! Emil told me about those. They're called thestrals or something, and can only been seen after one sees death, b-but I suppose we've all seen it.…" Latvia shivers and Estonia puts a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

The nations can hear announcements coming from the Great Hall, followed by the names of first year students in alphabetical order and then, after each name, a house. Liechtenstein can hear Connor being put, after a fairly lengthy pause, in Hufflepuff. Eventually, no one pays attention to the sorting anymore, so they are surprised when the witch in the indigo robes enters to announce that they will be sorted next. The nations file into the front hall again and even America stops talking to listen to the headmistress, Professor McGonagall, beginning to talk about them.

"And now to sort our guests," Professor McGonagall announces. "These students will be staying with us for this school year. Up to this point, their curriculum has not been the same as ours, so be mindful that they may not know everything you do the same way. We will be respectful to them at all times. Now, why don't we change things up a bit and begin in reverse alphabetical order? Zwingli, Lili, first year."  
Liechtenstein nervously begins to walk forward into the Great Hall. Switzerland reaches out toward her, but Britain grabs his other arm, holding him back. "No. She will have to go it alone eventually," he advises. Switzerland opens his mouth to protest, but he knows the truth of the statement. He tries letting go.

-/|\-

The Sorting Hat has seen many, many children. It has searched through the strangest minds, touched the thoughts of the most conflicted youth. It has sorted objectively, granted requests, and everything in between. It remembers every single child it has sorted. And only thrice before has it sorted a child like this.

Liechtenstein does not have a large population, for which the Sorting Hat is grateful, because while half of the person he was just commissioned to sort is Lili Zwingli, the other half is... something else. Perhaps the citizens of Liechtenstein. Perhaps the jumbled opinions of the entire political world. Regardless, the hat chooses to focus on Lili, for she is who it was supposed to sort.

"You are a nation? Liechtenstein?"

Liechtenstein jumps at the voice, but recognizing it came from the hat she is wearing, she nods. "Well... more of them. I thought I was done with nations after the last two times I sorted England. But very well." The hat thinks for a moment. "At first impression, Lili, you seem like a Hufflepuff. Extraordinarily loyal, extraordinarily hard-working. Yes, you'd be a good fit for Hufflepuff."

"A-alright then, Mister Sorting Hat, sir. Hufflepuff is fine. Thank you." Liechtenstein smiles and begins to stand up.

"Wait! I never said you should be a Hufflepuff, only that you fit the criteria. Oh, Hufflepuff is just fine, but you're also protective and wise. You are made for more. I expect a lot from you, Lili, and you can follow through. GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheers ring through the hall from the Gryffindor table. Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat off of Liechtenstein's head, and she walks to her table, beaming. There aren't many seats left, but she sees one next to a slightly older girl with dark blond hair. "May I sit here?" Liechtenstein asks politely.

"Well, of course!" the girl grins. I'm Kiersten. It's nice to meet you, Lili. Oh, hang on, they're doing another student."

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall had called up Switzerland - "Zwingli, Basch, fourth year" - and he is now sitting on the stool with the hat on his head, remaining stoic. The hat murmurs something, to which Switzerland nods enthusiastically, but then he appears a little apprehensive.

Finally, the hat sighs - if hats can sigh - and calls, "GRYFFINDOR!" Kiersten and the other Gryffindor students, this time including Liechtenstein, clap and whistle their approval. Switzerland stalks to their table, glaring at the girl on the other side of Liechtenstein until she moves over far enough for him to sit next to his little sister.

"Yay! Basch! I'm so glad we're in the same house," Liechtenstein smiles. "This is my new friend Kiersten."

Kiersten leans forward to see past Liechtenstein. "Hello, Basch. It seems we're in the same year, so we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other. Oh, but both of you have to meet Ravenna. Ravenna!" She pokes the girl on her other side, presumably Ravenna, who is chattering excitedly to another student.

"What, Kiersten? Oh, hi, new people! I'm Ravenna. I'm a third year," she explains over the applause from the rest of their table as Canada is sorted into Gryffindor. "Hey, we're three for three, sorting-wise!" she says, politely joining in the tail end of the clapping until it quiets down again. "So, where are you from?"

"We're from Switzerland, although Lili was born in Liechtenstein," Switzerland says a little too quickly.

"Wow, cool. Is everyone else from central Europe too?"

Switzerland shakes his head. "No, we're from a... variety of countries. The guy who was just put in Ravenclaw, for example, is Yao - he's from China."

"Oh, okay. So where did you go to school before?" Kiersten asks. Switzerland and Liechtenstein share a look - this is one question they weren't entirely prepared for.

"It's kind of a long story..." Liechtenstein begins, but she is thankfully cut off by more Ravenclaw cheers. By the time they're through, Kiersten and Ravenna have stopped pressing for details. Liechtenstein makes a mental note to thank China and Estonia later.

-/|\-

"What's taking the b******s so long? I'm sixth on the f***ing list!" Romano complains.

"Ve... but fratello, it's only been four minutes! Hey, they're calling your name! I hope we're in the same house, fratello!" Italy rants. Romano rolls his eyes and storms up to the front of the Great Hall. A dirty old hat is placed on his head when he sits down on the stool, and he is about to take it off and swear at whatever b**** would put such a thing on him when it begins to talk.

"Italy, eh?" it asks. Somehow, Romano isn't surprised that he is wearing a talking hat. Or, rather, he's too ticked to be surprised.

"You're probably looking for my brother, jerk," Romano hisses. "He's the part of Italy everyone cares about."

"No, you're just as much a part of Italy as Veneziano. And people do care about you; you're just overlooking it. Now, you're a difficult thing to sort. You could probably go in any house. Well, maybe except Gryffindor. But anyway. Usually I would put someone like you in Slytherin, but you need something different... you have a good heart somewhere, Lovino, and a good mind. Use them. RAVENCLAW!"

"B******," Romano says as he walks down to the applauding table, though he is secretly pleased. He was smart. He was _something_.

The Sorting Hat barely touches Italy Veneziano's head before squawking that he is a Hufflepuff. Finland is quickly sorted into Gryffindor, surprising everyone but Sweden, Russia, and Estonia. And now it is Iceland's turn. He strides purposefully to the front of the hall, sitting stoically down as the Sorting Hat is placed on his head. From the back, Norway half-prays that Iceland will get into any house but-

"SLYTHERIN!"

-that one. Sighing, he shifts to the back of the group. The world will go on.

-/|\-

"Oxenstierna, Berwald, sixth year."

Poland isn't as slow as people think he is. He just usually focuses on other things. But he's been listening enough to know the order in which they are being sorted. "Like, OMG, Liet, I'm next! How do I look?!"

Lithuania rolls his eyes. "Feliks, we're all wearing the same thing. It's fine."

"But when we're sorted, we'll wear our house colors! I, like, can't wear yellow! And what if we're not together?! Oh, LIET!" He throws his arms dramatically around his friend, who squirms uncomfortably in his grip.

"Feliks. Poland. You will be fine. You're the phoenix, right? No matter what, you can handle it. Besides, we'll see each other at lunch, right?"

Poland lets go. "I guess..." he admits as the Sorting Hat finally decides upon Hufflepuff for Sweden.

"Łukasiewicz, Feliks, third year."

"Like, wish me luck, Liet!" he calls behind him as he hurries to the front of the hall.

"Good luck," Lithuania whispers. But he knows his friend will be fine anywhere. _He's nice enough for Hufflepuff, and his phoenix complex has some truth. Maybe Gryffindor? Slytherin might almost work too..._

At the front of the Great Hall, the Sorting Hat is having many of the same thoughts. So when it hears itself choosing Ravenclaw, it can't help but wonder why. It decides it is the strange aura the guy puts out: confident, eager, and probably intelligent. At least it hopes so.

Poland, meanwhile, is ecstatic. He literally skips to the table, plopping down next to a surprised Estonia. But that's not who he sees. Across the table from him is a smiling girl, possibly the prettiest girl he's seen since he had a queen.

He decides he's going to enjoy being in Ravenclaw.

-/|\-

Belarus, having a human last name of "Arlovskaya," has had to sit through almost every other person's sorting before he himself is called. But one cannot stalk Russia for so many years without learning some patience. She sits against the wall, watching the nations file into the Great Hall as their names are called. Halfway through, Poland gets sorted into Ravenclaw, but that's really the biggest surprise.

"Laurinaitis, Toris, third year."

"Very hard-working and loyal... brave, too, been through a lot, could be a Gryffindor, but you've never left your friends behind for anything, have you? Keep that in mind. HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Køhler, Mathias, sixth year."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Kirkland, Arthur, fifth year."

"Again? Oh, honestly, Arthur. Back to your first house. GRYFFINDOR!"

"Karpusi, Heracles, seventh year."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Jones, Alfred, second year."

"Gryff- no, Slyth- no, Gryffin- no, Slyth-"

"Heroes aren't in Slytherin!"

"Fine! Just go then! GRYFFINDOR!"

"Honda, Kiku, fifth year."

"Hm... maybe Ravenclaw, but no… SLYTHERIN!"

"Héderváry, Elizabeta, fifth year."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Hassan, Gupta Muhammad, seventh year."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Bored, Belarus taps her fingers on the floor. _She_ could sort her colleagues faster than this. She gets up to stand next to her brother, who shifts away.

"Galante, Raivis, first year."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Fernández Carriedo, Antonio, fifth year."

From her vantage point clinging onto Russia's arm, Belarus sees much of the female population of the Great Hall staring and whispering to others near them as Spain walks past. She isn't sure whether she should encourage it for less competition for her brother or hurt them for ignoring him.

The Sorting Hat puts him in Hufflepuff, earning him louder-than-usual cheers from the girls in that house, and then the sorting continues with Austria ("RAVENCLAW!"). Next it will be Russia's turn, and then her sister's. Belarus hugs her brother goodbye just in case they end up in different houses. He squirms out of her grip.

"Braginski, Ivan, sixth year."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Belarus is unsurprised. She is glad, though, because she had already heard Prussia and Denmark betting on house placements on the train, and no one seemed willing to bet on her getting into any house other than Slytherin, so she probably has a good chance.

"Braginskaya, Katyusha, sixth year."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bonnefoy, Francis, fifth year."

Belarus sees the redheaded girl sitting next to Russia at the Slytherin table blush as France's name is called. The idiot. Who would want that pervert France? Even that oblivious Lithuania is better than him. She shakes it off, though. With the redhead after someone else, there is one less competitor for Russia.

The Sorting Hat takes its time with France ("What are you, a Hufflepuff? Slytherin? Why are you even here instead of at Beauxbatons?") before declaring him a Ravenclaw. Then Norway, Germany, and Prussia are put in Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin respectively, and it is Belarus's turn.

Denmark and Prussia were right - the hat isn't even on her head before it orders her to Slytherin. She loses her usual stoic face in favor of a broad grin. Belarus would get her brother to love her as much as she loves him, even if she has to use a potion to do it. After all, they would be stuck with each other for a while, so she has time.

Oh, how she loves magic.

* * *

**Okay, there's way too much stuff I want to rant about in this chapter, but it's nearly midnight here and I want to go to bed, so I shall spread my rant out to other chapters. Anyone with questions, though, by all means, review and I'll get back to you on them!  
**

**Most importantly, though, Turkey is in Slytherin. He just wouldn't fit in here without another PoV change (and thus like a hundred more words), so he's in the next chapter.**

**Also, random person who voted for Eesti on the poll, you made my week, so this is a shout-out to said random person. Thanks!**

**Danke! Bis nachher!**

**Translations:  
Danke! Bis nachher! - It's the same thing I say at the end of every chapter, really, so I imagine I can quit putting it in the translations. This time it's in German.**


	9. Lions, Snakes, Eagles, and Zebras

**Hello, world, I live! I know it's been a while and I only have 2 rewritten chapters up after all that, but I think I'm sort of making progress, and I'm somehow managing to balance school too, so that's good. Anyway, I thought I'd get this up. This, world, is why I ship DenUkr. I am sorry for that, but it oddly fits. Anywho, grazie to everyone who reviewed chapter 8, the AN, and/or the rewrites, namely Iricelli, Crazy Awesome Neko, Equality4Puppies, WeirdCornChip, Zantetsuken Reverse, xXNaidaXx, cherrygemini, Lyndana, Cookie05, forever-sweet, and ShrapnelGirl! Holy adjectives, there are a lot of you now, though I'm certainly not complaining~ :-) I don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter, for if I did I would actually have money and wouldn't be going all Switzerland on every little purchase.**

* * *

Chapter 9

By the time Turkey is sorted into Slytherin, Spain is already bored, not to mention very disappointed that Romano isn't in the same house. _Oh, well. At least I have Veneziano!_

Chatter builds up over the nations' arrival, and a couple of girls lean over and engage Spain in conversation. He is caught in a discussion of the history of magic in Spain for a short time before Professor McGonagall calls the room to attention again. "To assist in policing the increased number of students, I am appointing two Prefects from among them: fifth years Arthur Kirkland and Lukas Bondevik. But now that that is finished, I would like to invite you to enjoy the feast. Welcome to Hogwarts!"

The crowd of students cheers, and Spain joins in enthusiastically, only cutting himself off when heaping plates of food appear in the center of the table. His goblet fills of its own accord with thick orange liquid. Spain is serving himself from a rather out-of-place bowl of _paella _when a piercing scream cuts off all conversation.

"What's wrong, boy? You look as if you've seen a ghost," a hollow voice says loudly from the Gryffindor table. Spain twists around to look. A semitransparent grinning head sits on America's plate. America himself has fallen back off the bench and is just staring at it, squeaking.

"Hello, Sir Nicholas," the girl next to Switzerland calls.

"Ah, hello, Ravenna! Good to see you again!" the ghostly head greets, and it flies up out of the table, the rest of its body following. "What's wrong with this lad?"

Britain stands up and hustles over to pull America off the floor. "I'm sorry, Sir Nicholas, he's phobic of ghosts. Muggle-born, you see; you're the first one who has ever… popped out at him like that."

The rest of the conversation is lost to Spain as chatter picks up amongst the other students again, but he quickly learns that there is a ghost for every house and then some. "Alfred's going to have issues," Latvia remarks from somewhere nearby, voicing every nation's thoughts at that moment. For the rest of dinner, however, nothing is much more interesting to Spain than the _paella _and flirting.

After supper, Spain and the rest of the Hufflepuffs are herded to the basement and then through a passageway to their common room. The first word that comes to Spain's mind to describe it is "cozy." It is dimly lit only from a huge fireplace, and there are more than enough giant overstuffed yellow and black couches and chairs for the entire House. A seventh-year boy ushers the gawking Spain through a round door in the wall into a lengthy tunnel that split off at random points, gesturing him toward one in particular before turning off at another. Opening another round door at the end, Spain arrives at his dormitory.

He throws himself on top of a fluffy bed, ready to sleep (those girls were sweet, but one can only stand so much in a day), before realizing that he doesn't even know where he is going the next morning. A quick check of his schedule, found conveniently in a trunk at the foot of his bed, proves the first class to be Care of Magical Creatures at 9:35. _Sleeping in and learning magic? This is going to be a fun year!_

-/|\-

"'Scuse me... move it... geez, idiots, I'm late..."

"Ow!" Ukraine says as she falls to the floor, Denmark faceplanting next to her. The other students stream past unconcernedly as the two pick themselves up, Ukraine's cheeks bright red. "I'm sorry! I was thinking of something else and didn't get out of your way..." She hangs her head.

"Nah, it's okay. I'm just late for Divination. My bad."

"Eh? Divination? I'm going there too. We still have nine minutes before class starts. Want to walk with me? I'm getting rather lost..."

"Nine minutes? I'm gonna kill that stupid Emil! He said I had two minutes to get up to that freakin' tower!"

Ukraine smiles pityingly and grasps his arm. "Come on, I think it's this way."

-/|\-

"Um... a zebra?"

"It says here that zebras indicate international travel," Ukraine reads. Denmark just cracks up, earning him several odd stares.

"Is something particularly funny about Ms. Braginskaya's future, Mr. Køhler?" the teacher asks, gliding over.

"No, I just saw a zebra in those leaf things. International travel," he explains, giggling again.

"Oh? A zebra? Interesting. Now what does Ms. Braginskaya think your cup has to say about your future?"

"I haven't done his yet," Ukraine admits, blushing.

The teacher rolls her eyes and picks up Denmark's cup. "Hm... curious... a declaration of love, first off. Pity it isn't for you. Do you have any close relatives or friends that it might be for?"

"Uh... maybe?"

"Well, you have some time to figure out whom, dear; whomever it's for, it's no closer than the end of the year. Now, this chain here next to this onion? Those mean you'll be embarrassed by the release of a secret. Oh, and this symbol represents disaster. Be careful. Your leaves aren't all for you, but you're involved. Now, one more question." She pauses for a moment before tilting her head at Denmark in mild confusion. "How exactly does one manage to see a zebra in a clump of tea leaves?"

-/|\-

The Charms classroom is easier to find than the Divination tower, for which Ukraine is grateful. She and Denmark had been receiving some odd, nearly threatening glances from the other students in the halls, and she doesn't particularly enjoy such attention.

The staircases luckily turn in their favor, and the two are the first from their class to get to the room. America is at the front, being lectured on behavior by the teacher, apparently having been in the class prior. Someone sighs from next to Ukraine, who whirls around to identify the source, almost hitting Canada with her "large tracts of land." He blushes and stutters an apology as he backs away toward his brother, whose scolding has been finished, and they leave the room together.

"Well, don't just stand there; sit down, you two," orders the professor in a friendly tone. He is extremely short, but has a kind smile. His brown hair and mustache are streaked with gray and a small pair of glasses perch on his nose. Ukraine does as directed, sitting at a table in the front of the room, Denmark mindlessly following. "Now, I believe you two are some of the... exchange students in my class? Well, you plus Mr. Roderich Edelstein of my own house?"

"Yes," affirms Ukraine. "He may be late; he tends to get lost easily, and this castle is huge."

"That's fine. I quite understand. I'm Professor Flitwick, the head of Ravenclaw. I hear you have had rather minimal training, so if you're stuck on something, don't be afraid to ask, though I expect you to be trying to catch up."

"Yes, sir," Ukraine says, Denmark echoing a second later.

The little professor smiles sincerely and turns his attention to the next student entering. "Good day, Ms. Waverly! How was your summer?"

"Fine, Professor. Yours?"

"Just wonderful. Will you finally be joining the orchestra this year? We really could use that magnificent flute of yours."

The girl blushes and sits down at the unoccupied table next to the nations'. "No thank you, Professor. Not this year." She dips her head slightly, raven hair shielding her face from further view. Flitwick arches his eyebrows but says nothing, instead opting to turn around and magically write on the chalkboard with his wand.

More students file in and choose desks next to their housemates. The two unfilled chairs at the raven-haired girl's table are quickly occupied by the first two other Ravenclaws that come through the door. Austria, predictably, is the last student in the room, so he has to sit next to Ukraine. They can both feel the unwelcoming stares of the Gryffindors behind them and busy themselves taking out their books and wands. Denmark just sits there obliviously, doodling on the corner of the table.

Finally Professor Flitwick calls the class to order. "Good morning, class! It's so nice to see all of you returning to work toward your Charms NEWT. Let's start off the year fun, shall we? _Aguamenti!" _He flicked his wand, shooting a jet of water in a high arc above their heads and into the top of a stack of pots on a back table. "The size and focus of the stream is, as always, a matter of concentration," he explains, changing the jet to fine mist that showed a rainbow in the light from the windows. "Well, go on. Work with the others at your table. Grab a pot and give it a try."

Austria gets a pot from the back table and gives the spell a go, but nothing comes out of his wand, so he backs up and lets Ukraine try. All she gets is a spurt of mist. Denmark, however, gets a nice-sized stream of water on his first attempt.

"Well done, Mr. Køhler! Five points to Slytherin for getting it first!" Professor Flitwick calls, and Ukraine and Austria congratulate Denmark appropriately. The rest of the room breaks out in whispers Ukraine can't help but hear even as she goes back to practicing.

"What are they even doing together?"

"Don't they know...?"

"Quite odd, a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw. And a Slytherin, of all things."

"Must be 'cause they're new."

"Katyusha, it's your turn to try," Austria says, snapping her back into focus.

"Right, sorry, _aguamenti."_ Nothing, not even mist. Austria frowns.

"Are you concentrating?"

"Oh, probably not enough. You get back to it and I'll be right there."

"Alright… _aguamenti!"_

Everyone manages the water-making charm that lesson but Ukraine, who leaves the room hanging her head as others giggle and chatter around her. Is it her fault they don't approve?

* * *

**Yes, I'm well aware that I'm overusing aguamenti. I used it in the earlier chapters and then looked on the wiki, only to find that aguamenti is the first charm taught in sixth year. Oops. More variety coming up soon, I promise! Paella would indeed be severely out-of-place in Hogwarts, because it's basically a Spanish seafood stew with a bunch of expensive spices. It's really good.  
**

**Anyway, to answer some questions:  
1. Verena, mentioned in the rewrite of chapter one, is Switzerland's gun. He would name it, wouldn't he?  
2. Sealand... I don't want to deal with Sealand right now. He'll appear at some point, but not anytime soon.  
3. I put Sve in Hufflepuff for two reasons. One, he's very protective and not averse to hard work, characteristics of classic Hufflepuffs. Two, I wanted a 'Puff Nordic (what? Hufflepuffs can be awesome and BA too! Not to mention good finders!).  
4. As for Britain and Gryffindor versus Slytherin, that shall be explained in time.**

**Okay, so... I have another order of business, but this is awkward; I've never asked for such a thing before. So I'll just say it. If anyone out there can actually draw competently and has nothing better to do, could you make a cover art for this? It's just that I don't like having randomly jacked Estonia's picture, and, well, I want something, because this story is really important to me. It doesn't have to be immediate... but PM me if you're interested, and thank you, arigatou, gracias, merci, you are Prussian awesome.**

**Review at least, please? You guys are epic already. *Hugs and/or gives paella* Oh! and check out Globus by xXNaidaXx if you haven't. I'm sorta-kinda betaing/co-writing it, and it would still be awesome (albeit grammatically horrible) even if I weren't, so yeah. And thanks for reading this epically long AN.  
**

**¡Gracias! ¡Hasta luego!**


	10. Expelliarmus

**I HAVE NO EXCUSES! Seriously, I have nothing to explain why I haven't updated in so absurdly long. And it's a short chapter too. Ah, well. Several (hundred) thank-yous this time: first and foremost, to inkedvigilante (FOR THE LOVE OF PASTA, GO READ HER FIC RETRACE. NOW. IT NEARLY MADE ME CRY. MULTIPLE TIMES.) for drawing the ****adorable**** IceLiech cover art that's up now, as well as two or three others that may take their turns as covers! She is an epic Canadian ninja. But anyway. The ninjas-in-training are the reviewers, this chapter including xXNaidaXx, Crazy Awesome Neko, Equality4Puppies, zoewinter1, Shiralala, Iris99ify, and a shoot-ton of guest reviewers that would take too long to list. Honorable mention goes to my dear friend DarkDramaLady for her epic, epic rant on the House descriptions in chapter 4. Seriously, go look at it. And never, ever tick her off. I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter, for if I did, inkedvigilante would draw the covers of the HP books and DarkDramaLady would be ****_my _****betareader.**

* * *

Chapter 10

The halls clear around Sasha Alexander as she walks, and even most of the first years know to shift away and content themselves with looking at her. She glances back to see if Charlotte is still behind her. She is, trotting at Sasha's heels like a loyal dog. They are on their way to breakfast, and everything is as it should be. Until they reach the Great Hall, that is. Those weird new foreign students are all sitting together, talking and fighting and laughing at the end of one table.

Her table.

No one sits at the Slytherin table unless they're in Slytherin. Not on Sasha's watch, anyway. She marches over. "Excuse me." She attempts to capture their attention sweetly, but to no avail.

A louder "EXCUSE HER!" from Charlotte caught their notice, though, and Sasha flashed her a grateful look before turning her gaze back to the odd visitors before her.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you have all made something of a mistake. We sit with our houses, not all together. This is the Slytherin table, the next one over is Ravenclaw, then Hufflepuff, and the last table is Gryffindor." She points at each as she mentions it, her voice touching sarcasm on the last one. "I am sure this is but a simple mistake and it won't happen again, yes?"

They look at each other for a moment before one, a muscular Gryffindor boy with shaggy blond hair, stands up. "Of course. We don't want to… invade anyone's territory. Come along, Lili." A younger girl, also a Gryffindor and bearing a striking resemblance to the boy, gets up and follows happily. After a short silence, the others that aren't in Slytherin leave the table as well.

Sasha sits down as far from the leftover foreigners as possible, Charlotte taking the seat next to her. "Name, year, any information you've got, really, on the first boy who talked to me – bloody coward for a Gryffindor." She rolls her eyes and reaches for the toast that had just appeared on the table.

"Basch Zwingli, fourth year Gryffindor. The girl was his little sister Lili. Basch himself was in my Defense class yesterday. He sat in the exact center of the room – took great pains to do so – and sat alone, even though there are two other foreign students in the class."

"Names?"

"Gryffindors Ludwig Beilschmidt and Tino… something. Even the professor couldn't pronounce his last name. The Beilschmidt boy has a German accent and Tino indicated he came from Finland."

"And Zwingli's little sister? Lili?"

"Lili Zwingli, first year Gryffindor. I don't know much else about her."

"Still, a fine job for the second morning of school, my dear. Keep watching those Gryffindors."

"As always. Could you please pass the milk, Sasha?"

"Of course, dear."

-/|\-

As it is Wednesday, Russia is in the remarkable position of having no classes to attend until three o'clock in the afternoon. Having nowhere else to go, he stays in the Great Hall after the others clear out, practicing the transfiguration spells Britian had taught on a cup of pumpkin juice saved from breakfast. After several attempts at turning said juice to water, he finally manages vodka (but vodka is Russian water and therefore it counts, da?). As he starts to drink it, though, a shadow falls over him.

"Ivan," Norway greets simply, and Russia looks up at the Ravenclaw.

"Oh, hello, Lukas. Why are you here?"

"Arthur forgot to tell everyone, but we have a meeting place now for when we don't have classes. It's up on the seventh floor, just a bit past the portrait of Godric Gryffindor. The door will have a carving of a tree on it. I'll be going up there now, if you could find some others and tell them."

"Certainly, I will." Russia begins to gather his things, and Norway leaves without another word. After wandering the halls and even the library for a while and finding no other nation, Russia relocates the stairs and starts going up. The seventh floor is high, but not unattainable, and the room Norway spoke of is easy to find. The door itself is a grand affair; stained a shade reminiscent of honey, it features an extraordinary carving of a broad gnarled oak with a decent assortment of animals around it, most notably a bull moose and a bison. Russia pushes the door open and looks inside.

The room is perfect. Enormous bookshelves cover the side walls from floor to ceiling. Tables and chairs and couches upholstered with purple velvet sit invitingly in front of the bookshelves, creating a comfortable environment for studying. Curtains hanging from rods on the high ceiling are pushed to the far end of the room but, if closed, would cut the open middle area off from the study areas. A gigantic cabinet the same shade of the door occupies the middle of the far wall, and the floor is black carpet. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Belarus, Germany, Switzerland, Finland, Japan, France, Hungary, Norway, Denmark, and Egypt are already sitting in various places around the room when Russia comes in.

"Big brother!" Belarus squeals happily when she sees him, jumping up from her chair. "Big brother, how were your first days of school? I haven't seen you very often since the beginning of the school year…" she pouts. Russia smiles slightly. He had been avoiding her as much as possible lately. He knows it's rude, but it would be difficult to explain his own sister's advances toward him to the other students, not that they dare talk to him too much.

"Natalia, Ivan, we should begin," Norway says, standing.

"Begin what?" Russia asks, pulling his sister off gently.

"Practice." The others gather as he draws his wand. "Today's lesson: Disarming. _Expelliarmus!" _Denmark's thin cypress wand flies out of his hand. Norway catches it expertly. "Pair up and try it. Natalia, this is third year curriculum, so you should sit out."

Hungary warily pairs up with Russia (Belarus, naturally, stares daggers at her), Denmark whimpers at Norway to give his wand back, and Japan and Germany are already practicing. Cries of "_Expelliarmus!"_ resound in the large room, though only France is successful at disarming his partner, Finland, sending the wand halfway across the room.

"Very good, Francis," Norway says as most of the others congratulate him more enthusiastically. "What kind of wand do you have, anyway?"

"Ten inches, elder, phoenix feather, if I recall correctly."

"Really. Careful with that thing; it's powerful."

"So I've heard," France smiles. "Shall we go? It appears to nearly be time for the next class."

-/|\-

"Please, Eduard? Please? Just look it over?" America pleads. Estonia sighs.

"Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto," he says, pointing over America's shoulder at a line in that nation's Astronomy essay, "and it's Io that's got the volcanoes."

"Thanks, dude!"

"You're welcome. Just pay a bit more attention to what's beyond next time you send someone to the moon."

"Eh, NASA does that for me."

The evening of the second day of school is surprisingly peaceful. Second-year Astronomy classes had just let out and everyone is in the Room of Requirement doing homework (everyone but the first years, that is; their curfew was up at eight, and their Astronomy class isn't until midnight.).

"Alfred, do your own work!" Britain yells and turns back to Norway, whom he had been speaking to. "Are you sure it's time yet? We're hardly through the second-year curriculum. That's at the end of third year."

"You have it now, don't you?"

"Yes… very well. Tomorrow we'll have a mandatory practice for fourth years and up… I am hesitant about this, Lukas."

"Make it third years and up. They ought to see before they get it in Defense."

"Yes, that makes sense, being who we are. Do you care to make the announcement or shall I?"

"Go ahead." Norway chuckles. "This is why we take of this during first year at Durmstrang."

"And you also taught dark magic at Durmstrang until the second war ended," observes Britain as he stands. "Your attention, please, everyone! Mandatory practice tomorrow evening at seven for third years and above. Defense stuff. And bloody hell, Italy, don't forget your wand this time!"

* * *

**Yes, yes, it's filler. But it's IMPORTANT filler. Mwahahahaha. So what do you think Iggy and Norge are up to? Anyone? Guess away! No spoiling it, DarkDramaLady and xXNaidaXx.  
**

**For the record, Eesti (who finally made an appearance; squeeeee!) was directly quoting Hermione in chapter 14 of Order of the Phoenix when he was trying to explain Jupiter's moons to America. I just had to.**

**The next chapter is already written (the next chapter is, in fact, the reason I began writing this story in the first place), so it'll be up in two days, maybe tomorrow if I get enough reviews... oh, by the way, people who voted Prussia in the poll (which is still there, everyone else!), he gets to be especially awesome next chapter. That's all I'm going to say. Well, that and that people wondering why Germany is placed in Gryffindor will get the beginning of their explanation.  
**

**For the record, the schedules are NOT entirely canon. To get everything to fit, I had to remake them entirely. That's why the nations get random breaks between classes when they go use the Room of Requirement. I also had to tweak curricula a bit, but that we can blame on Professor McGonagall being Headmistress, right?**

**Anywho, Sasha and Charlotte have something relevant here. And I still have only like half the important OC's introduced appropriately... gah. Wish me luck with that.**

**Kiitos! Nähdään myöhemmin****! (Finnish)**


	11. Monsters Inside Us

**Hello yet again! I couldn't wait to post this. I just couldn't. Thanks to xXNaidaXx, Zantetsuken Reverse, Equality4Puppies, Crazy Awesome Neko, and Cookie05 for reviewing in the very short window between last post and this one - I believe it's only been about sixteen hours? Well, regardless, I don't own Hetalia or Harry Potter, for if I did I'd probably get more reviews~ (HINT HINT). And now a slightly unnecessary warning: this chapter centers largely around the Holocaust. I doubt it'll be some much of a touchy subject for modern Hetalia/HP fangirls, but it's worth mentioning anyway. Now enjoy the drama!**

* * *

Chapter 11

"Um… so, who will go first today?" Britain asks hesitantly, walking into the Room of Requirement with a briefcase.

"What is that for, Britain?" Hungary asks, gesturing at the briefcase.

"It's our lesson. We're learning about boggarts today. They like small, enclosed spaces. One decided to move into this thing, and I thought we could use it," he explains, still not seeming all that keen on demonstrating.

"Cool! So what do we do with it?" Denmark asks excitedly.

"Um… when it's released, just point your wand at it and think of something funny and say _riddikulus. _So who's going first?"

"Dude, I will, 'cause I'm the hero!" America proclaims, pulling his wand from his robes and positioning himself to aim at the briefcase, which Britain had set on the floor.

"But-but you're a second year! What are you even doing here?! This is- you know what? It's not worth fighting it. Good luck, America." Britain pulls out his wand and opens the lock on the briefcase with a flick of his wrist.

For a second, nothing happens, but then a transparent whitish figure begins rising from the open briefcase. The ghost has no recognizable face, but instead its features change as the nations look on. Predictably, America screams like a girl and runs to the other side of the room.

It's Germany's turn to roll his eyes. "America, it is a ghost, and not even a real one at that. There is nothing to be afraid of, see?" Germany asks, stepping toward the ghostly figure, which is still hovering over the briefcase. He raises his wand to dismiss the ghost with the _riddikulus _spell, but before he gets the chance, the boggart begins to change.

The whitish ghost suddenly glows yellow and begins to shrink, compressing into a small golden necklace which floats at eye level in front of Germany. Curious about the change in the boggart, he reaches out to take it, and the necklace falls into his palm. The blond nation brings it up to his face to inspect the pendant.

For a second, nothing happens. Then the watching nations see a change in Germany. He begins shaking, and those observing from the sides can see tears rolling down his cheeks. Deciding that this is enough, Britain moves toward Germany to take care of the boggart himself.

"Don't come near me," Germany says.

"What? Germany, it's just a boggart, I can-"

"I said DON'T COME NEAR ME!" Germany shouts, his words echoing throughout the room. Britain hastily retreats to his former spot.

By this time, Italy is getting very concerned for his friend. "Germany, what's wrong?" he calls, rushing forward. Austria tries to grab him, anticipating what the boggart is showing Germany, but Italy slips away from his grasp.

Germany's shaking has subsided, but he still doesn't move from his place in front of the briefcase or discard the necklace. When Italy reaches his friend, gently touching his arm in an attempt to calm him, the blonde instead collapses to his knees. Italy drops with him. "Germany, what is it? Whatever it is, it'll be okay, right? It's always okay in the end."

Finally Germany turns his head, locking brimming cerulean eyes with the bright amber ones Italy finally opens. "No, Italy," he says slowly, as if each word pains him, which they probably do. "No, it's not always okay." He opens his hand and lets the necklace slide out onto the floor. As it hits the ground, he stands. "It was never okay." He spins on his heel and walks hurriedly out the door, leaving it to bang shut behind him. After a moment of stunned hesitation, Prussia runs after his brother, every hint of his normal mischievousness gone from his expression.

Britain carefully levitates the necklace and guides it back to the briefcase, which locks closed as the jewelry drops into it. The room breaks into a chorus of whispered speculations about what the boggart could have possibly been to make Germany – strong, tough Germany – break down like that.

Norway cuts in, instantly quieting the crowd of nations. "A boggart takes the form of its adversary's worst fear," he states matter-of-factly. "For America, this was a ghost. For Germany, whatever was on that necklace obviously brought back some painful memories. As nations, we certainly have enough of those."

"But what was it?" Turkey asks. All eyes turn to Italy.

"The – the necklace had the Star of David on it," he stutters.

"Why would Germany – oh, I get it; it's not the Star of David he's afraid of, it's the-" Spain begins, but cuts himself off at the menacing glances from many of the other nations. He doesn't need to complete his statement. The others know just as well.

-/|\-

"West – Ludwig – GERMANY!" Prussia calls, sprinting down the hall after his brother, who had broken into a run at some point and disappeared around a corner. He instantly regrets not attending any of the blonde's recent training sessions. How had he become so soft?

"Come on, Old Fritz, give me a little help here," he prays, looking up to the heavens – and in the process seeing a portrait of a medieval wizard with long hair and beard waving madly, signaling to him. Something tells Prussia to stop.

"Hail, there, you! Who are you chasing after? What's he running from?"

"He's my brother, and… I guess he's running from his past. Our past."

"He's in my House, though. He must have quite a past, if he's still that scared of it. The lad was crying, for heaven's sake."

"S***. It was a boggart. And he was too young back then…"

"Well, judging by your tie, you're in Slytherin, but you've a brave soul somewhere, and someone has to help your brother. He went downstairs."

"Thanks!" Prussia starts to head to the staircase.

"Wait! There's a staircase behind my portrait. It goes down to the ground floor. Intercept him." The painting swings forward, revealing a doorway to a cobweb-infested stairway. As Prussia hurries down, the painting calls after him, "Stay courageous, and keep your brother close! And do me a favor and tell Salazar's portrait in your common room that Godric says hello!"

-/|\-

How far away from the Room of Requirement Germany was planning to go Prussia does not know, but Gryffindor's portrait was right to send him around the long way to intercept his little brother. They get to the Entrance Hall at exactly the same time, literally running into each other in their haste, but Prussia is the more coherent at the moment, and he is able to grab his younger brother and hold him until he stops struggling. The albino pulls him over to a staircase and forces him to sit, repeating that action for himself as soon as he knows Germany won't try to get away. They sit in silence for a while. Then:

"Do you remember World War One?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, of course, West. It's hard to forget it."

"You did all the work. The Triple Alliance, the militarization, all of it. I was training that entire time."

"You were young, West. I wasn't about to be an unawesome brother and let you go to war and hurt yourself before you even looked old enough to join. And anyway, you got into the action eventually, right? You found Italy."

"_Ja, _but I didn't actually kill anyone during that war, not really. You basically ran both Prussia and Germany. And then World War Two came around."

Prussia knows where this is going, but he has to let it go there. "And you started fighting, really being in the conflict, then."

"Yes." There is a moment of silence. "But just after the beginning of the war proper, my idiot b****** of a boss thought I could use a little… maturing. He had a Jewish girl brought from Poland, only fourteen years old. She and I were taken to a little cabin outside Berlin where we were to spend the night. I took the bed for myself, left her to sleep on the floor. In the morning she was forced to stand outside, ten paces from the wall, all day. At dusk, I was made to stand at point-blank range and kill her while looking right at her."

"And the necklace was…"

"Hers. The necklace was hers." Germany wipes a stray tear before continuing. "And the worst part about killing her,_ bruder?_ I enjoyed it. She was an abomination, not just Jewish, but a Slav as well. So somehow, even staring into her eyes as I killed her, I thoroughly enjoyed it."

For a moment, even Prussia is lost for words. Then he lets out a weak, nervous chuckle, pulling Germany into an awkward side-hug. "West, we're nations. We are what our people are. If our people are happy, we're fine; if our people are trying to revolt… well, you're lucky you weren't around for the French Revolution and then the Napoleonic era. You think Francis has issues now? They're nothing compared to then. But really, West. You are Germany. If the Germans feel sadistic, so do you. It isn't your fault. It's the price we pay for being who we are. Immortality is f***ing awful sometimes."

"But she-"

"She would be long gone by now anyway. Besides, don't you think she or anyone else would forgive you if they knew the hell we've been through? Now come on, you scared some people when you ran off. We have stuff to do, _bruder,_ and I wanna get to dinner on time."

"Is that seriously all you're thinking about right now? Food?"

"Kesesesesesese, West, France and China and Turkey got the house-elves to let them cook tonight. It isn't going to be any old horrible British-food day. Even you should appreciate that."

"I hate to admit it, but you have a point."

"So you're okay again? Back to being just slightly less awesome than the awesome me?"

"Shut up, _bruder._"

"Yep, you're okay. Kesesesese…"

* * *

**Yep, this is the chapter I wrote a whole story around. America will forever be a party crasher. Even in lessons. XD I sort of feel bad for Britain, though. He didn't want to go through this particular lesson yet, and he sort of forgot what to do. But Norway pressured him into it. So Chapter 3's title is a bit off - you should only always take Norway's input into account.**

**A lot of people forget that Germany is one of the youngest nations. Oh, there's that entire hypothetical HRE argument, but if he can't remember anything before unification or whenever it was, he's still young mentally and emotionally. And Germany as a country has had so many issues - he shouldn't have to hold all that hurt in all the time. No wonder he snaps so often. Now are you starting to see why I put him in Gryffindor? Don't worry, this arc's not quite over yet, though it won't be back for a while.**

**I have a challenge for you now. Let's get up to (or beyond) 99 reviews with this chapter! Yes, 99 is a nice number. Something might happen for everyone who reviews this chapter if we get up to that number...**

**Köszönjük! Viszlát később! (Hungarian)**

**Translations:  
bruder - brother, German**


	12. How Not to Make a Potion

**Hello, people. Listen, it's 12:30 AM here and I want to sleep, so fancy AN stuff will come later. Read the little blurb at the end and all will be well. Review?**

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Chapter 12

"Hi, Amelia."

"Hey, how's it going, Amelia?"

"Amelia, are you doing anything tonight?"

"Why does there have to be a maximum length of four pages for this essay? Can you help me summarize, Amelia? You're good at that."

"Amelia-"

"Hey, Amelia!"

"Amelia!"

"AMELIA!"

Amelia Waverly shuts her eyes and just breathes as she goes through the Ravenclaw common room and into her dormitory, ignoring everyone calling after her. She has never been sure whether she wants the attention or not, but it's probably a good thing. If you have lots of people willing to protect you, no one can hurt you, right?

She digs through her trunk for her flute case and, finding it and slipping it into her robes, makes the trek back through the crowded common room and away from the tower. She pulls the Marauders' Map from her pocket, checking for an empty classroom to practice in. Luckily, Classroom Eleven is once again vacant.

Amelia had once wandered into a room on the seventh floor – a room she hadn't seen since – while she was looking for a place to practice. In it was only a table; on the table, a blank parchment and a note with two phrases: "I solemnly swear I am up to no good" and "Mischief managed." The rest of the evening was spent unraveling the mysteries of the self-proclaimed Marauders' Map, and she'd used it ever since. No one else knew about the Map but her brother.

The staircases turn in her favor, and Amelia slips unnoticed into Classroom Eleven. The room still bears signs of when it had been turned into a "forest" for the centaur Firenze to teach Divination years ago. Moss grows in corners, stones in the center outline what used to be a fire pit, pillars along the walls feature carvings that look suspiciously like bark, and the fresh smell of pine lingers. Amelia can still hear the rustle of trees if she listens carefully.

She pulls a chair from a corner and takes out her instrument. Flute song cuts through the silence. _Being out after curfew is stupid, but I need this, _she thinks, and plays for fifteen minutes without stopping.

"Hey, Amelia?"

It's her brother's voice. She stops playing. "What are you doing here, Bryan? You'll get caught."

He steps into her field of view. "We didn't get a chance to chat today. How are you doing?"

"Better. People are annoying."

"Yeah," Bryan agrees, pushing back some black hair that had fallen into his face. "What are you doing tomorrow? It's going to be Sunday, not that that seems right."

"Studying. I might go to the library, if anyone else is able to come."

"Maybe I'll join you."

"Sure."

"Do you still have the Map?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, there's a guy in my classes – Eduard; he's Estonian – and I wanted to see what he shows up as on the Marauders' Map."

"He doesn't."

"What?" Bryan almost yells. "How? It shows everyone!"

Amelia takes the Map out of her pocket. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she recites, tapping it with her wand. "See? None of them are in the common rooms or the Great Hall or the library, and besides, it's past curfew for all but sixth and seventh years."

"I saw Eduard and a couple of the others before I left the common room, too," Bryan adds. "Do you think it's because they aren't British or something?"

His sister shakes her head. "No, Arthur Kirkland is never on it either. But let's not worry about it too much. You're past curfew." She disassembles her flute and tucks the case back into her robes. "Come on. It's bedtime, at least for you, and we don't know how easy the riddle to get back in will be."

-/|\-

Tuesday, and America finds himself running after Canada to the Potions room. It isn't his fault they're late, right?

"You're late," Professor Setaroot states as they race into the dungeon classroom. "I assume this is your fault again, Mr. Jones?" She sighs heavily. "Three times late in three times we've had class. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for your tardiness and another five because your brother must have waited for you today. Now, we're making the Hair-Raising Potion today. Sit."

They sit.

The professor starts to explain the potion's development and effects in great detail, but America doesn't really pay attention. What, after all, is the purpose of a potion that makes one's hair stand up? Besides, Canada usually takes notes, which America decides he can just steal later. When the teacher finally tells them to begin, America glances over at Canada's parchment, but nothing is there.

"I thought you were taking notes!" he hisses.

"I thought you were!" Canada whispers back. "It really wouldn't hurt for you to do that once in a while, you know. You owe me for even being able to participate at all today."

It's true. America had dropped his wand in the hallway and, since the Summoning Charm was taught in fourth year, they didn't know any way to find it except to look for it personally. The constant stream of people from other houses who did little more than glance their direction didn't help. Eventually, Canada was lucky enough to come across it, but by that time they were late for class.

"I'll just ask Eduard," America shrugs, turning around in his seat to face the Estonian sitting behind him. "Dude, neither of us took notes. Do you mind?"

Estonia rolls his eyes. "Here. Don't spill anything on them, okay?" America nods and takes the notes, which he deposits in front of Canada. Canada gets to measuring out the exactly four milliliters of pond slime required for the first step as America leans back in his seat, already daydreaming.

He feels something poke his shoulder and looks back to where Bryan, Estonia's partner, is pulling back his arm. That boy glances around suspiciously before leaning forward to whisper, "My sister's partner messed up on this potion second year and it exploded – left both of them in the hospital wing for a couple of days – so you might want to be careful." He draws back quickly, checking to see if anyone else had seen him give his advice. No one had.

"Got it!" America says a little too loudly before tapping his brother. "Now, bro, what can I help you with?"

"You could stay out of my way while I'm measuring pond slime," Canada suggests, "and you could hand me that vial of pomegranate juice."

The pomegranate juice is handed off and dumped into the cauldron, changing the potion's color to bright red and making it fizz slightly. The meticulously-measured pond slime goes in after stirring, making it a glowing yellow. Seven rat tails follow (America definitely lets Canada pick those up), the last one making the now blue mixture hiss as it goes in.

"Finally, just some nettles… 'add exactly thirty-one dried nettles,' it says. Well, here goes," sighs the Canadian. "One… two… three… four…"

"Um, Matthew?"

"Five… six… seven…"

"Matthew!"

"Eight… nine… ten…"

"Dude!" America grabs Canada's arm roughly, pulling him away from his counting.

"What?! You made me lose count!"

America points at the cauldron. "Is it… supposed to be doing that?" The potion had become gray and murky, with silver bubbles that rise just above the lip of the cauldron and pop in little flashes of fire.

"I'm not sure it is…" says Canada. "Watch it. I'll keep counting."

"Right."

"One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten… elev-" _BOOM._

When the smoke clears and all residual fires are put out, Professor Setaroot finds a rather burnt American on top of a rather less burnt Canadian in a corner. "Is it o-okay yet?" America asks shakily.

Canada pushes him off. "It is. It's okay. Thanks for tackling me, I think."

"I felt like it was about to blow up, so…" America trails off.

"Well, thanks."

Professor Setaroot orders them both to the hospital wing, but of course that's not where they go. Canada points to the animals on the door to the Room of Requirement once they reach it. "It's busy in there today."

"How can you tell?" America asks. The worst of his burns are already starting to heal.

"The animals – they're the national animals of all the nations in the room."

America arches his eyebrows. "You, bro, are brilliant."

"Not really," Canada shrugs. "I saw a bald eagle appear once as you went in. I just pay attention. Maybe you should try it sometime." By the time he finishes, though, America is through the door.

"Attention, everybody, I'm the hero yet again!"

* * *

**Thus ends the most boring chapter I've ever somehow managed to enjoy writing, despite horribly confusing myself in the process. Sorry about the purple prose. Review if you want to; I don't feel like pressuring anyone right now and we've reached 114 reviews and I'm very happy just about that! Sorry if you missed out on the reward thing.**

**Anyway, I'm on Tumblr! Go stalk my page if you want to see more about writing this story and others. I promise I won't spam you unless you consider Doctor Who gifs (I BLAME DARKDRAMALADY) or pictures of baby elephants (BABY ELEPHANTS) spam. My username is as-if-unreal because... eh, I'll tell you later. I'm going to bed now. But just check that out in about nine or ten hours and there will be relevant information. :-)**

**Oh, and I guarantee that the pace will pick up really quickly from here. Next chapter... let's just say it will have stuff to do with Quidditch.**

**Good night!**


	13. Seeking

**I'm sorry. So much has happened in the past month it isn't even funny... you get a little present at the end of this for waiting. Review, please~? And speaking of, thanks to those who reviewed: Equality4Puppies, Myrkvun (how do you even pronounce that?), Zantetsuken Reverse, DarkDramaLady, xXNaidaXx, inkedvigilante, derpology, HetaliaKitty, Crazy Awesome Neko, zoewinter1, Hammsters, SarcasticBlue, Evening Emerald, begitte and our guest reviewers!**

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Chapter 13

"IGGY IGGY IGGY GUESS WHAT'S ON THE BULLETIN BOARD! GUESS GUESS GUESS!"

Britain pretends to have to think for a moment. "Oh, I don't know, Alfred. Maybe the notice for Quidditch tryouts?"

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?!"

"I put it there. Now stop shouting and stand in one place, you git."

America suddenly stops bouncing, growing serious, though not any quieter. "YOU PUT IT THERE?"

"Yes, of course. I'm the Gryffindor Quidditch captain."

It takes America a moment to process. "YOU? THEY PICKED YOU?"

"Yes. Remarkable as you obviously think it is, I have played in many a memorable game."

"IGGY IGGY IGGY TEACH ME TO FLY ON A BROOM PLEASE I WANT TO PLAY PLEASE PLEASE PICK ME!" America starts bouncing again.

"Slow down, America! Honestly, how much sugar have you had this morning?!"

"A LOT…"

Britain facepalms. "Remember, your body's twelve years old. Sugar rushes happen, believe it or not."

"WELL, CAN I TRY OUT?" America asks, still fidgeting despite his best efforts.

"I will pick the best players for each position, and that's all there is to it," Britain explains. "I'll hold… for lack of better terminology, a crash course in broom flying tomorrow. Then you may try out, and if you're fit for a position, you just may get it."

"THANK YOU!"

"Whatever." Britain rolls his eyes. "I hope you're not fit in the slightest. Now for Pete's sake, go burn off some of that sugar."

"OKAY!"

-/|\-

"Hey, Feliks, it's time to get up," Victoire says, flicking her friend lightly. Poland rolls over, whining for her to go away; he liked his pony dream, but the damage is done – he's awake.

"What?" he grumbles, cracking open his eyes and yawning. "It has to be, like, three in the morning right now."

"It's actually six-thirty. Ravenclaw has the Quidditch pitch now! Time for tryouts!"

"Like, whatever, Vic." He rolls onto his side.

Victoire drops down to her knees to look Poland straight in the eyes. "You said you'd come with me! Please, Feliks?" She smiles her best pleading smile.

Poland rolls his eyes. "I can't say no to you, Vic." Victoire smiles and leaves the Ravenclaw third-year boys' dormitory quietly, doing her best not to wake anyone else. Poland rolls out of bed and makes a racket getting his robes from his trunk, effectively rendering Victoire's caution moot; Romano chucks his pillow at him before retreating back beneath his covers. In his defense, it's Saturday.

In all honesty, Poland doesn't mind the clothes that much. Sure, the black robes are a bit boring, but having Ravenclaw blue and bronze on the rest of his clothes (and the fact the Hungary had loaned him some of her girls' uniform skirts in exchange for a pair of boys' pants) helps. Besides, he's allowed to wear accessories like the pretty blue bow that goes in his hair today, so it's, like, totally okay.

Victoire grins at him from across the common room as he comes down the stairs. In her hands are two broomsticks, old but in good condition. "Teddy let me borrow his and this other one is from Uncle Harry," she explains at Poland's confused look. "Come on, we're going to be late!"

-/|\-

Cassandra Mofoll, seventh year and Ravenclaw Quidditch captain and keeper, prided herself in being prepared for anything.

Unfortunately for her, that "anything" did not include a cross-dressing Polish third year who didn't know how to play Quidditch.

Especially when he was so darn _good _at it anyway.

He knew how to fly a broom; that was certain. He rode like he was riding a horse or something, but it was effective. He and Victoire Weasley tossed the Quaffle back and forth without a care; they avoided Bludgers Cassandra had had the Beaters launch at them with ease. Cassandra did her best to block the goals, but at least without a true opposing team, Victoire and Feliks outmaneuvered her.

With a tired sigh, Cassandra lands and checks them off on her clipboard. Two Chasers found, one to go, though none of the other candidates look promising. She voices this opinion to a friend, who reminds her that neither the Polish cross-dresser nor the pensive Norwegian fifth year who took the position of Seeker by storm had looked promising either.

In the end, she decides that they might – they just might – win this year.

-/|\-

Traditionally, the Seeker is the last person to be chosen during Quidditch tryouts, and Slytherin has never not observed that tradition. This year was meant to be no exception. And the choice of Seeker came down to Sasha Alexander and a certain Icelandic student who, in Sasha's opinion, did not belong in Slytherin – heck, in the school. Durmstrang sounded like a better place for him.

Regardless, it came down to them, and Sasha couldn't do a thing about it, no matter _how _many years she'd been Seeker (four years) or _how _unfair it is that Iceland got to try out when he probably wouldn't even be coming to Hogwarts next year (very unfair). Denmark took the opportunity to point out that she'd had no problems with his being a Beater. Iceland glared. The team captain rolled his eyes and ordered the two candidates to get on their brooms.

The Snitch is released.

Twenty seconds later – and it feels like an eternity to both of them – the Seekers take off.

"You're fast!" Sasha yells as she accelerates.

"I learned from the best," Iceland shrugs, trying not to get distracted.

"Who would that be?"

"You don't need to know." He suddenly drops into a dive. Sasha follows.

"I'm sure I don't, since I'm the Seeker on this team."

"Not for long, you're not."

Sasha laughs, pulling up just before hitting the ground. "You really don't know how this works, do you?"

"I think I know enough of how it works." He gives himself a bit more altitude to pull out of his own dive. "For example –" He cuts off as he spots the Golden Snitch, hovering just off to his left. Unfortunately, Sasha spies it too. It's an all-out race. They're right next to each other, reaching out, going for the prize.

_Just… another… centimeter…_

Iceland snatches it first and smiles. "For example, I know you don't get to be Seeker."

-/|\-

Hufflepuff has the pitch for tryouts right after Slytherin. Teddy Lupin, fourth year and Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, takes the broom he'd lent to Victoire from the locker room where she'd left it before calling the potential players to order.

"We're first choosing a Keeper – it seems Elijah is the only one trying out, though," he reads from his parchment. "Well, Elijah, I think you're in."

"No," Elijah answers quickly and firmly, green eyes flashing. "We're doing this the right way. I try out and you tell me whether I'm on the team; I'm not to tell you."

"Oh, come on, Thimblewaist," Lizzy Greene whines. "You're Head Boy. You can tell us whatever you want. But Gryffindor has the pitch in an hour and a half, so we don't have all day."

"We can discuss this later," Teddy sighs, "because Lizzy's right . We don't have much time. Elijah, if you could please at least act as Keeper for the Chasers, please." Elijah nods and mounts his broom. "Now, let's see… Connor Brant?"

"Um… that's me…" Connor says shyly from his spot in the stands. Latvia, next to him, pushes him gently to encourage him to go down to the pitch.

"It says you're a first year. Do you have the permit from Madame Hooch?"

"Yes, sir…"

"Oh, you don't have to go calling me 'sir,'" Teddy reproaches with a grin. He turns his hair from bright red to brighter turquoise almost unconsciously. "If you flew so well as to skip flying class and get yourself here, then, well, you're almost part of the team just now. I'm Teddy and that's what you should call me."

Latvia and Connor, being in the same year and house, spend a lot of time together. They pair up to practice together in nearly every class. The only exception is flying, where Connor is far out of Latvia's league. Since Professor McGonagall became headmistress, any first years that showed extraordinary talent in their first two flying classes could get special permission to try out for Quidditch. This year, it was only Connor and Iceland who were good enough – not that Latvia minds. He prefers the rather safer ground, but he came to tryouts to provide moral support.

In the end, Connor is the breakout star, easily nabbing a Chaser spot next to Teddy. Overall, the team looks great. Teddy pulls Lizzy to the side later to say that they may just have a chance this year.

-/|\-

"Charlotte," Sasha says flatly. "Where were you during Quidditch tryouts?" It's no real question. Charlotte carefully slides a bookmark into her book and looks up, waiting for Sasha to continue. "I made the team."

"Of course you did, Sasha. There's no reason you wouldn't be the Seeker again."

Sasha just laughs. "Oh, there's a reason. Why wasn't I told that there was another potential Seeker – a GOOD potential Seeker?"

"I thought I'd taken care of them all for you!"

"Wrong. That little first year – Emmy or Eric or something – was still in for it. And he got the spot, can you believe it?"

"He did?!" _Oh, no… oh, dear… _"But I thought you said you were on the team!"

"Only because Rupert took pity on me and offered me a Chaser spot! That kid got the position by fluke. Now we're going to lose the Cup. And why are we going to lose the Cup? Why, Charlotte?"

"I'm sorry! It won't happen again. I'll… I'll make sure you win your first game! I guarantee it!"

"We had better. Now, I'm going to go make some arrangements. You watch him, understand? You watch that boy. I don't want him to ruin the Quidditch season for Slytherin."

"He won't."

"Thank you, dear. Now, it's time for lunch, isn't it?"

* * *

**I really do apologize for the quality of that. I've learned that I can't write anything relevant to sports to save my life. And half of this was written when I was technically way too tired to do anything. Like right now. Which is why I'm going to post this silly little omake now and leave. Good night; don't forget to review and check out my Tumblr, username as-if-unreal (and you win the Internet and pie if you figure out how I got that)!**

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Prussia waves madly, motioning for America and Canada to join him on the side of the hallway. He holds a small vial with pink liquid in it. "Guys, look at this! Setaroot gave me some love potion recipe to try and make and it smells really good! Like pancakes and beer and the blood of my enemies!"

Canada eyes him warily. "Gilbert, if you've been trying wizarding drugs-"

"No, no, just smell it!"

Sighing, Canada takes the vial and sniffs cautiously as America watches, amused.

"I have to admit it does smell like pancakes... and maple syrup... and maybe some cigarette smoke... I have no idea where you're getting blood, though."

Prussia smirks, grabs the vial back, and takes another sniff. "Kesesesese, just kidding! It's just pancakes and beer and perfume and mein bruder's black forest cake."

"Alright, now I wanna try. Let me smell it!" America declares, snatching the vial and holding it to his nose. "It smells like FREEDOM!" he whoops, throwing his hands in the air and sending the vial crashing to the ground. "Ehe... it smelled like freedom..."

Prussia breaks out in his signature laughter as Canada sighs yet again and cleans up the mess with a spell. "I don't think freedom smells like pancakes, Al."

America's goofy smile returns. "No, it's PANCAKES that don't smell like FREEDOM!" He laughs and races down the hall in exactly the opposite of the direction he and Canada need to go. Canada moans exasperatedly and Prussia outright doubles over in his laughter before the former goes stumbling off after his brother, mumbling to himself.

"I don't think freedom has a smell, eh. Does it...?"


End file.
